


Orphans of the storm

by gonattsaga



Series: A hundred and forty-two [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Close to Canon-compliant though, Deathly Hallows AU, EWE, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Half-Blood Prince AU, Jealous Harry Potter, Jealousy, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, M/M, Occlumency, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Slash, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, True Love, Wordcount: 100.000-150.000, for a summer, snarry, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 127,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonattsaga/pseuds/gonattsaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry haven’t finished packing. It had just seemed too good to be true, when he’d read Dumbledore’s letter, the prospect of leaving Privet Drive again after merely a fortnight!</p><p>Of course, he didn’t know what this safe house would be like, and with whom he’d share it, if anyone, maybe it would turn out to be even worse than staying with the Dursleys, although he’d sincerely doubted it. Still, he hadn’t been able to entirely shrug off the feeling that something was going to go wrong – whether it’d be that his reply to Dumbledore’s letter would somehow go astray, or this Professor be held up and unable to come, or worse still: the whole thing might even be a trap.</p><p>AU:HBP - Dumbledore does send Harry a letter telling him that he'll be leaving Privet Drive early, however it isn't Dumbledore who will show up and it isn't The Burrow that Harry will spend the remainder of his summer...</p><p>And as this fic has really taken me for a ride, this will continue into DH as well (not Epilogue compliant!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The mysterious Professor

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a line of dialogue in the movie "Pride"

Harry grunts a little in his sleep and his face slides down the window he's been using as a pillow an inch or so, making his glasses even more lopsided than they already were and yet he still doesn't wake up. On the window sill, an old alarm clock is facing him, ticking loudly and showing a minute to eleven. Beside it, held in place by Harry's relaxed hand, is a piece of parchment covered in thin, slanted writing:

 

 

> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _If it is convenient to you, I shall send someone to call at number four Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to collect you and escort you to a safe house where, if you are agreeable, you will spend the remainder of your school holidays._
> 
> _I would have come myself, but I'm afraid a matter has arisen that shall need my full attention for the time being, so I will see you at Hogwarts at the end of the summer. The professor who will come to pick you up will explain more fully on Friday._
> 
> _Kindly send your answer by return of this owl._
> 
> _I am, yours sincerely,_
> 
> _Albus Dumbledore_

Though he already knows it by heart, Harry has been stealing glances at this missive every few minutes since seven o'clock, when he'd first taken up position at the window from which he can see both ends of Privet Drive.

Harry had sent back his _yes_ immediately, not stopping to worry about this mysterious Professor until afterwards, wondering if Dumbledore would send McGonagall or maybe their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, in other words a complete stranger... Harry had for a very brief, hopeful moment thought of Remus Lupin, until he'd remembered that the werewolf was no longer teaching.

Harry haven’t finished packing. It had just seemed too good to be true, when he’d read Dumbledore’s letter, the prospect of leaving Privet Drive again after merely a fortnight!

Of course, he didn’t know what this safe house would be like, and with whom he’d share it, if anyone, maybe it would turn out to be even worse than staying with the Dursleys, although he’d sincerely doubted it. Still, he hadn’t been able to entirely shrug off the feeling that something was going to go wrong – whether it’d be that his reply to Dumbledore’s letter would somehow go astray, or this Professor be held up and unable to come, or worse still: the whole thing might even be a trap.

The minute hand on the alarm clock reaches number twelve and at that precise moment the streetlamp outside the window goes out. As if the sudden darkness were an alarm in itself, Harry wakes up. Hastily straightening his glasses and unsticking his cheek from the glass, he presses his nose to the window instead and peers down at the street below. He catches sight of a moving shadow, or it could have been the tail end of a dark robe or cloak, but he has no chance of spotting the person’s face before they’ve moved out of sight.

The next moment, the doorbell rings and Harry jumps up as though having received an electric shock and knocks the chair over in the process. His Uncle Vernon shouts from downstairs ( _Who in the blazes is calling at this time of night?_ ) as Harry starts to snatch anything and everything within reach from the floor and throws it into the trunk.

 _“_ _Good evening_ _”_ , a dark, silky voice says and Harry freezes.

Clutching a brass telescope in one hand and a pair of trainers in the other, Harry feels his pulse pick up a steady, fast rhythm, as he holds his breath, listening to that all-too-familiar voice, _but it_ _’_ _s can_ _’_ _t be_ _…_

 _“_ _You must be Mr. Dursley_ _…”_ the unmistakable voice of Professor Severus Snape continues. _“_ _I daresay Mr. Potter has informed you that I would be coming?_ _”_

 _Ah shit,_ Harry thinks desperately and clambers over the trunk, still clutching the telescope and trainers awkwardly in one arm, he wrenches open his bedroom door and starts lumbering down the stairs two at a time, feeling both panicky and close to laughter.

He comes to a halt halfway down the stairs, as long experience growing up with Uncle Vernon has taught him to stay out of arm’s reach as often as is possible, _and come to think of it, so has recent experience with Snape_ _…_

The Potions Master is standing framed in the doorway, his black robes billowing around him and his pale face, curtained by long, dark and rain damp hair, is marred with a subtle scowl. He and Uncle Vernon both turn to glare at Harry.

“Judging by your look of disbelief and Potter’s imitation of someone who has just been stunned, he did _not_ inform you I was coming”, Snape continues and Uncle Vernon whips his head around to face him again. “However… shall we _assume_ you have invited me in, all the same? It is unwise to linger on doorsteps in these troubled times… plus, it’s raining.”

Without waiting for any type of reply, Snape slides over the threshold and swings the door shut behind him.

“I don’t mean to be rude—“ Uncle Vernon splutters indignantly.

Snape’s eyes flicker over to Harry for a split second, but it is impossible to decipher his mood since he is even more stone-faced than Harry is used to seeing him in school and he wonders how much Dumbledore has told him about his last meeting with Harry, if he’s told him about Harry throwing a tantrum and smashing most of Dumbledore’s possessions, if he’s told him that Harry holds Snape responsible for Sirius’s death _, I hope so_ , he thinks mulishly, _because it_ was _his fault, if that git hadn_ _’_ _t_ taunted _Sirius like that then he might not have left_ _Grimmauld_ _Place and gone to the Department of Mysteries with the rest of the Order_ _…_

“Yet”, Snape interrupts both Uncle Vernon and Harry’s train of thoughts. “Sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often. Best not to say anything at all… _Potter_.”

Harry startles slightly and almost drops his telescope, but manages to catch it again.

“Y-yeah—?“

Snape glares slightly at him, and it’s oddly comforting, Harry realises. _He looks more like himself like that._

“There are a few matters that I have been asked to discuss with you before we go—“

“Where are we going—?“ Harry cuts in hopefully, but Snape ignores him.

“—And I would prefer it if we didn’t do so out in the open…”

He turns back to Uncle Vernon and raises an eyebrow expectantly, but Uncle Vernon says nothing. The vein pulsing in his temple is nearing danger point though, Harry can tell.

“Shall we assume you have invited me into your sitting room?” Snape says and, again without waiting for a reply, strides past Uncle Vernon and into the next room, his robes billowing in his wake.

Harry cautiously side-steps first his uncle and then Aunt Petunia whose head is sticking out from the kitchen suspiciously, and follows the Professor quickly.

Snape hasn’t bothered to sit down, but he immediately gestures for Harry to take a seat in the armchair nearest the fire and Harry gingerly perches on the edge of the seat and watches the Potion Master warily.

“Potter, I’ll get straight to the point”, he says matter-of-factly whilst gazing at a point just above Harry’s right shoulder. “They have discovered Sirius Black’s last will and testament and he left you everything.”

Harry senses some movement in his peripheral and realises that his aunt and uncle, and maybe Dudley too by this point, is lurking in the doorway and eavesdropping on the conversation, but he won’t turn his head to look; he won’t , _can_ _’_ _t_ look at them right now.

“Right”, he says numbly.

He’d have expected to feel more angry with Snape, especially hearing him talk about Sirius like this, but he feels nothing.

“It’s quite straight-forward”, Snape continues. “A reasonable amount of gold will be added to your vault at Gringott’s and you also inherit all of Black’s personal possessions. The _problematic_ part of the legacy—“

“His godfather’s dead?” Uncle Vernon speaks up and there’s no mistaking the hopeful tone in his voice. “He’s _dead_ , his godfather? Definitely gone?”

“ _Yes_ ”, Snape hisses, without looking in the man’s direction, instead his eyes flick up to meet Harry’s for the first time, but he quickly looks away again. “Our problem… is that Sirius also left you number twelve Grimmauld Place.”

“The Order can keep using it as Headquarters, I don’t care”, Harry says immediately, wondering if maybe that’s the safehouse he’s meant to spend the rest of the summer in – and if he’d actually be able to stand setting foot in the place again, and so soon after Sirius…

“How generous”, Snape murmurs. “Unfortunately, we’ve had to vacate the building for now… Since the Black family tradition decreed that the house be handed down in a direct line to the next male with the name Black. Sirius Black, however, was the very last of his line, his brother Regulus having predeceased him as you may know, and both… childless… and while his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been placed upon it to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood… in which case, the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Black’s living relatives, which would mean his cousin—“

“Bellatrix Lestrange!” Harry finishes for him and feels a sinking feeling in his gut; _Sirius murderer inherit his house, no fucking way_ _…_ “No! She can’t have it!”

“Naturally, the Order isn’t very keen on its Headquarters for the past year to move into the hands of a Death Eater either… Also, we don’t know whether the enchantments that we ourselves have put on it, for example making it unplottable, will still hold now that ownership has passed from Black’s hands… it might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment, so naturally we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position… Fortunately, there is a simple test to find out if you yourself is now the rightful owner of number twelve Grimmauld Place, because if you are, then you are also the owner of…”

Snape flicks his wand and with a loud _crack_ a distraught-looking house elf appears out of thin air; Aunt Petunia lets out a piercing shriek.

“Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t!“ croaks the miserable house elf, stamping his feet and pulling on his huge, bat-like ears. “Kreacher belongs to miss Bellatrix, oh, yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, not _the Potter brat_ —!“

“Give him an order”, Snape instructs Harry loudly to be heard over Kreacher’s continued wailing ( _“_ _Won_ _’_ _t, won_ _’_ _t, won_ _’_ _t, WON_ _’_ _T!_ _”_ ) and Harry, unable to think of anything else to say to the elf, yells at him to _Shut up, will you!_ and for a second it looks like the elf is about to choke, grabbing his throat desperately, his huge eyes bulging in panic and rage and mouth still working furiously although no sound can be heard escaping from it.

“Well, that simplifies matters…” Snape mutters.

Harry eyes the house elf as he starts to roll around on the floor, much to Aunt Petunia’s horror, and punch her meticulously scrubbed carpet with his tiny fists, and asks Snape if he’ll have to keep him, understanding of course that it would be a very bad idea to set him free, but also hoping that he won’t have to keep him _with him_.

“Certainly not”, Snape says quickly. “I suggest you put him to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts, where the other elves can keep an eye on him for us…”

“That’s… actually a good idea”, Harry says, relieved. “Kreacher! Er… I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there, okay?”

Kreache,r who is now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gives Harry an upside-down look of deep loathing, then disappears again with another _crack_.

“There is also the matter of the hippogriff”, Snape says in an almost bored tone. “Hagrid has been looking after it, but since it is now yours, you may want to make different arrangements…”

He seems entirely unsurprised when Harry says Hagid can keep Buckbeak, so far he’s been almost on auto-pilot, except for when he’d had to address Uncle Vernon, having anticipated Harry’s reactions and answers, but now suddenly he seems to draw himself up and his gaze becomes more focused, hardened even, fixed as it is on the doorway behind Harry where the Dursleys are huddled together.

“Now”, he says in a tone of voice that suggests he’s finally got to _the good part_ , and flicks his wand for a second time, causing the large sofa to scoop the Dursleys up and transport them further into the room. “As you will no doubt be aware, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, Mr. Potter comes of age in a year’s time…”

“No”, Aunt Petunia pipes up. “No, he doesn’t. He’s a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn’t turn eighteen until the year after next—“

“Yes”, Snape agrees silkily. “But in the wizarding world, we come of age at _seventeen_.”

Completely disregarding Uncle Vernon’s _preposterous_ , Snape continues: “Now, as you already must know by now, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country, and the wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare… Harry, whom the Dark Lord has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than he was when you found him on your doorstep fifteen years ago…”

Harry feels a jolt of some unfamiliar feeling at hearing Snape talk about him like this with the Dursleys, and even refer to him as _Harry_ as opposed to the disgusted way he normally spits out his last name. It’s also thrilling to watch him swoop down on the Dursleys and stare down his crooked nose at them in his most intimidated fashion, _although it hasn_ _’_ _t worked on me since first year_ , Harry thinks, but looking over at the Dursleys he can tell it works on them at least.

“Of course you have never treated this boy as your own, as was Professor Dumbledore’s request”, Snape’s words filter in through Harry’s thoughts. “From what I’ve been informed, he’s known nothing but neglect and often even cruelty at your worthless hands…”

Harry experiences another jolt and feels his heart start to properly hammer away in his chest.

“…The best that can be said is that he at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the lump of a boy sitting between you.”

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon look around instinctively, as though expecting to see someone other than Dudley squeezed in-between them.

“Us? – mistreat Dudders? – whatever d’you –?“  Uncle Vernon begins to splutter indignantly, but Snape flicks his wand again and he falls silent immediately, just like Kreacher had when Harry had ordered him to shut up, and just like Kreacher, Uncle Vernon grabs at his own throat in panic.

Aunt Petunia lets out another shriek, “Vernon! Vernon, what’s wrong!?”

Snape sighs, but it’s more of a put upon huff than anything else, and despite everything, despite this being _Snape_ , Harry finds himself grinning. 

“The magic Dumbledore evoked here fifteen years ago”, he continues in a loud voice to be heard above Aunt Petunia’s sobs and Dudley’s whimpers. “Means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house… home. However _miserable_ he’s been here”, Snape flicks another glance at Harry’s face, then ploughs on with an air of somebody who wants to move things along. “However unwelcome and mistreated, you have at least allowed him house room. This magic will cease to operate the moment Harry turns seventeen, however, Dumbledore has asked me to implore you, if you can see it in… _your hearts_ …” Snape sneers. “To allow the boy to return once more to this house next summer, until his seventeenth birthday, so that the protection will at least hold until that time… I take it by your silence that we are in agreement.”

Harry bites back a snort, seeing the look of incredulity on his aunt and uncle’s faces.

“Potter…” Snape says, and Harry tears his eyes away from the Dursleys again. “Is there any point in even asking whether or not you have finished packing?”

“Er…” Harry looks down at the telescope and trainers hugged to his chest and feels his face heat up.

“Of course not”, Snape mutters.

“I’ll be five minutes—!“ Harry shouts over his shoulder as he’s bolted out of the room.

“You’ll be two, or you’re staying here!” Snape shouts after him half-heartedly as he takes the stairs, again two at a time, and hurls himself inside his room.

 

*

Harry feels more than a little awkward as he struggles to keep up with the Potions Master as they leave number four Privet Drive, lugging his trunk and Hedwig in her cage.

Snape suddenly comes to an abrupt halt at the end of the street, causing Harry to accidentally walk into him and he feels himself flush again. Snape says nothing, just takes out his wand and then, almost as an afterthought, he glances uncertainly at Harry.

“I-I can’t Apparate”, Harry says.

“And you haven’t Side-Apparated with anyone before?”

Harry doesn’t bother asking what Side-Apparating means, figuring it’s probably just what it sounds like and just shakes his head _no_. Snape nods.

“It’s fairly simple”, he says bracingly and flicking another glance in Harry’s direction, a glance that Harry is _sure_ to mean _Even a dolt like you should be able to manage it, Potter._ “But you’ll need to, er… hold onto me… quite tightly.”

Harry isn’t sure who is the most uncomfortable right now, him or Snape, but he nods and tries to appear _cool_ about it _, and probably failing spectacularly_.

Snape shrinks Harry’s trunk so that he can just put it in his pocket. _I like how he waited to do that until we_ _’_ _d walked all the way down the street_ , Harry thinks bitterly, but doesn’t say anything about it out loud. Snape also shrinks Hedwig’s cage after he’s let her out and told her to go on ahead. Harry tries to hear what address he mutters to her before releasing her into the crisp night air, but he speaks too softly for Harry to be able to make out the words.

“All right… Ready then?” Snape says.

“Are we going to Grimmauld Place, then? Is that the safehouse Dumbledore mentioned?”

“What? No. No, we’re not going to Grimmauld Place… nor The Burrow”, he adds before Harry has a chance to ask.

“So where—?“

“Well, you’ll see in a minute, Potter. Come on, now. I haven’t got _all night_ … Just…” he holds out his arm stiffly and gives Harry an impatient look.

“Right”, Harry says in a rasp, mouth suddenly gone a little dry, and he tentatively touches his hand to the older man’s robe-clad elbow.

Snape makes an impatient noise at the back of his throat and gives his arm a little shake. With a deep, steeling breath Harry links his arm with Snape’s and steps closer to him. Snape then makes a soft grunt, as if to encourage, but it only makes Harry feel more awkward.

Luckily, the moment passes quickly and before he’s had time to _completely_ die of embarrassment, Harry is distracted by a sudden, nauseating sensation of being hauled through space while everything goes dark around him; he can feel Snape’s arm slipping in his grip and start to twist away from him and instinctively hugs him closer, clutching his arm desperately as he feels himself being pressed very hard from all directions; _he can_ _’_ _t breathe,_ there are iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs are being forced back into his head and his eardrums pushed deeper into his skull and then –

He gulps down great lungfuls of cold night air and opens his streaming eyes to an unfamiliar field split in two by a narrow river hugged by overgrown banks.

Still gasping for breath, Harry blinks some of the blurriness away and vaguely registers the chill on his cheeks as the warm tears quickly cool. He spots an immense chimney in the near distance, a relic of a disused mill by the looks of it, shadowy and ominous in the gloomy dark dispersed only slightly by a couple of streetlamps.

“Are you all right?”

Harry startles and whips his head around to meet the Professor’s gaze and feels his face flush again when he realises that he’s still clutching the man’s arm as though his life depends on it, and he quickly lets go and takes a step back, mumbling something about _preferring brooms_ and flushes even more when Snape’s lips quirk a little with involuntary amusement.

“What is this place?” he asks quickly, hoping to distract the other man before he starts teasing and taunting him, but Snape doesn’t answer him, just sets off towards the chimney and Harry hurries to keep up with him.

Entering into a seemingly deserted labyrinth of brick houses, Harry finds himself moving a little closer to the older man, but decides not to look to closely at the reason behind this, and if Snape notices he doesn’t let on, just continues to walk briskly onto a street called _Spinner_ _’_ _s End_ , according to a weather-worn street sign next to one of few functioning streetlamps.

Their footsteps echo on the cobbles, Harry’s in particular for some reason, and he wonders anxiously whether the neighbourhood really is deserted or if he’ll wake up half the street when he suddenly stumbles over his own feet and nearly falls face first to the ground. Snape’s arm shoots out instinctively to catch him and Harry mumbles a _thanks_ that goes completely ignored, however Snape _does_ slow down his pace slightly.

They reach the very last house on Spinner’s End and Snape stops and mutters something under his breath, flicking his wand in a decisive manner back and forth a couple of times, and when nothing at all happens, he continues to walk up to the front door and unlocks it.

“What is this place?” Harry asks again as he follows the other man inside the house, looking around curiously.

Snape walks into what appears to be the sitting room and lights a couple of candles and a big fire in the old fireplace.

“My house”, he replies curtly and strides out of sight into an adjoining room.

 _Snape_ _’_ _s_ house, Harry thinks incredulously. _Dumbledore wants me to stay with_ Snape _all summer?_

He can hear tinkering from what he assumes must be the kitchen and follows the other man cautiously, but stays hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

“I’m making tea”, Snape announces unnecessarily, brandishing a kettle in Harry’s general direction but not looking at him. “I have already prepared a room for you…”

He flicks his wand and Harry can hear a creaking sound from the sitting room behind him and assumes a door has been opened.

“You may retire if you wish”, Snape continues. “It’s rather late. Or, if you would prefer, you can join me for tea before bed… it’s entirely up to you…”

Harry isn’t sure why, but he gets the feeling that Snape is being defensive, and it’s fairly obvious that Harry is the last person he’d want to have stay in his house with him, which should be anything but surprising and yet Harry feels quite irked by this blatant display of displeasure, even though it’s nothing compared to his attitude towards Harry in the classroom, because _it_ _’_ _s not like I asked to come here_ , he thinks. _It_ _’_ _s not like I even_ want _to be here!_

“Or…” Snape adds quietly, peering carefully at a point halfway up Harry’s arm by the looks of it. “If you’d rather, you’re also more than welcome to take a cup of tea with you… to your… room.”

“Right”, Harry mutters, feeling a little put-upon at the poorly disguised demand that he get out of the other’s face, but stamps down on the irritation before it can fester and grow into a full-blown rage.

“Actually, I think I just want to go to bed then… I’m a bit tired…” he lies.

Snape abandons the kettle, and Harry realises that he might have started the task purely for Harry’s benefit, in some kind of grudging show of hospitality, and isn’t sure how he feels about it if that’s the case. He merely follows him back out into the sitting room, where indeed a door is now ajar that hadn’t been before. Snape gestures for Harry to walk into the room and he does so cautiously.

An old-fashioned storm lantern is hanging in the window, spreading its dim candle light over the small room and illuminating a carefully made bed, a rickety old desk with accompanying chair and a single bookcase, gaping empty save for a small number of leather bound books with indecipherable titles in peeling gold. Harry makes a mental note to check them out properly in daylight, and then turns to look over at Snape. The other man is standing in the doorway, feet on the other side of the threshold as if to respect the space as Harry’s now, and it makes Harry feel all sorts of weird.

“Well, good night… then…” he says awkwardly.

Snape nods once, and then gently swings the door shut. Harry holds his breath and listens with dread for the sound of a lock clicking into place, but no such sound can be heard. Instead he hears the muffled sound of Snape’s footsteps as he moves away from the door.

Harry releases the breath he’s been holding. He walks over to the bed and sinks down on it, half expecting a cloud of dust to fly up around him, but the sheets feel crisp and clean under his hands and when he’s crawled under the covers buried his face in the pillow the subtle smell of lily-of-the-valley soothes him strangely and he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

*

When Harry is awoken by the dim sunlight filtered through the dirty window glass in Snape’s guestroom, _Harry_ _’_ _s room_ , as opposed to the shrill shriek of his aunt’s voice yelling at him to get up and make himself useful, he realises that the events of the previous night hadn’t been a weird dream after all.

He rubs some of the sleep out of his eyes and, pushing his glasses onto his face, squints out into the still unfamiliar room, trying to get his bearings.

He sits up and stretches his arms over his head, feeling a muscle in his lower back _pop_ satisfactorily.

He finds Snape in the kitchen, where he seems to be waiting for Harry to appear, although why he was waiting Harry doesn’t understand because he makes up an excuse and leaves just as soon as Harry crosses the threshold. Harry turns back into the kitchen and eyes the breakfast foods spread out across the rickety table and what he assumes to be a pot of tea under a hideous old tea cozy. He shrugs to himself and takes a seat at the table, stomach rumbling and reminding him that he’d barely eaten anything the day before.

Once Harry has wolfed down enough eggs and toast to start to feel full, he slows down a little, expecting Snape to come back eventually, but he never does. After a while, Harry grows restless and stands up. He eyes the dishes and uneaten food hesitantly, wondering if he should put it away and, thinking _better safe than sorry_ , puts the food in the muggle fridge and the dishes in the sink before he walks out into the sitting room.

Snape is sitting in the solitary armchair, reading a book when Harry joins him. He quickly snaps the book shut however and stands up, still without looking directly at Harry.

“Let’s get started then…” he murmurs and swoops round the rickety table, his wand appearing seemingly from nowhere, steady in his hand.

“No pensieve?” Harry asks carefully.

His muscles tense instinctively as he steels himself, half-expecting Snape to hex him for his insolent question, or simply for reminding him of Harry’s insolence in the past when he’d peered into one of Snape’s embarrassing memories quite without asking and making the Potions Master angrier than Harry had ever seen him before, or since, including in the memory that he’d invaded. _Or maybe it just seems worse when the anger is directed right at you_ , Harry supposes.

Snape doesn’t hex him though, nor does he throw anything at Harry or even raise his voice at him. He merely glares back briefly, before looking away to take a deep, short breath.

“What would be the point?” he says, then looking back at Harry he gives him a tiny nod to encourage him to get his wand out, _get this over with_ …


	2. Occlumency

Harry isn’t sure what he’d expected from his stay with his least favourite professor, but it wasn’t this. After a week of sharing living space and one meal a day with the other man – for some reason Snape was always too busy for lunch and Harry didn’t know how early he got up in the morning, if he even slept at all, but he’d always finished breakfast by the time Harry got up, even when the one morning when Harry made the effort to get up really early with hopes of catching him mid-meal – he wouldn’t say he was enjoying himself, but he certainly wasn’t having an abysmal time either.

The Occlumency lessons were as hard as ever; although Snape wasn’t as hard on him as he had been the last time he’d tutored Harry, the lessons themselves were hard enough. And unlike any other subject, with the dubious exception of Divination, it didn’t get any easier either, quite the opposite it seemed to Harry.

He’d voiced this concern with Snape once, but the other man had merely told him to try harder and that had been the end of that conversation.

Harry sighs and stretches his arms over his head and arches his back. For some reason, he always manages to crash to his knees and then collapse on all fours during their lessons and it’s starting to take its toll on his body. He hasn’t felt this sore since the last time he played Quidditch, and it’s actually quite comforting to feel the familiar ache in his muscles and joints.

Placing his glasses onto his face he gets up from the bed and pads out of his room.

When the tinkering sounds from the kitchen reaches him he feels a jolt of excitement – which only confirms just how bored and restless he is really – and picks up his pace slightly.

Harry enters the kitchen as calmly and quietly as the creaking floorboards will allow and finds Snape in the middle of making breakfast. Harry checks his watch – _9:33_ – and confirming Harry’s and every other Hogwarts student’s suspicion that he can see through the back of his head, Snape promptly tells him to make himself useful instead if he feels that breakfast is taking too long, and he sounds just as surly as Harry used to think of him as and he represses a smile at the familiarity and continues into the room.

“What can I do?” he says politely as he sidles up to the other man.

“Oh, just sit down”, Snape snaps and slams a cupboard shut and immediately turns away from him.

“I _want to_ help”, Harry insists.

“I said sit down, Potter!”

“Fine”, Harry mutters and takes a seat at the table.

Snape looks worse for wear. Not pale so much as ashen and his hair, normally hanging off his head like a set of silky black curtains, and slightly greasy when he’s been brewing potions, is now a tousled mess. Nothing compared to Harry’s own birds’ nest, of course, but a mess all the same.

“Rough night?” Harry asks before he can stop himself.

Snape grumbles something under his breath, but Harry can’t make out the words. He decides not to push it, though. He knows better than anyone what it’s like to not be able to sleep properly, or when you do manage to fall asleep to have it haunted by nightmares. And he also knows exactly how annoying it is then when people remark on your state the next day, questioning the quality of your sleep as if you’re somehow at fault for not having a good night of it.

Deciding to try and lighten the mood or at least change the subject, Harry looks around the kitchen for inspiration and lands on the bookcase crammed into the corner next to the muggle fridge. Snape has got so many books he’s literally had to put up shelves on every available surface of the house, including the bathroom and kitchen, and Harry realises he never did ask him about the books in his own room.  

“Hey, what’s—?“Harry starts, but is instantly cut off by a silky _Potter_ , quite closer than he’d realised Snape was and he jumps a little and jerks his head back around to face him again.

The other man is looming over him, holding a pan with sizzling eggs and glaring.

“I know we’re not currently at Hogwarts”, he says in a quivering undertone that actually makes Harry shiver slightly. “But if you could see it in you to muster at least a _Sir_ , that would be _much_ appreciated…”

“Sorry. Sir.”

“ _Thank_ you”, Snape murmurs and dumps half the contents of the pan onto Harry’s plate, before swooshing away again.

 

*

 _Harry’s scar bursts open;_ I’m dead, _he thinks, the only thing he_ can _think through the pain, just that, a feeling more than a conscious thought, a sense of certainty,_ it’s over now, I’m dead; _and then the image of being locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that there’s no way of telling where his own body ends and the creature’s begins; they’re fused together, they’re one and the same, bound by pain and powerful magic… and then, Harry locks eyes with Professor Dumbledore, desperately trying to reach out to him, trying to connect through the blurriness of tears, the creature’s voice rips through his throat…_ Kill me now, Dumbledore _…_

 _Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry feels his jaws move and the creature’s hissing voice claw its way past his vocal chords:_ If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…

 _And Harry can’t think straight, can’t do anything,_ just make the pain stop please, let him kill us, end it, Dumbledore please _, he thinks feverishly…_ Death is nothing compared to this… and I’ll see Sirius again, _he thinks hopefully, longingly…_

Suddenly the pain lifts and Harry finds himself collapsed on the threadbare rug in Snape’s sitting room, familiar to him by now and oddly comforting. He gasps for breath. Tears are still streaming down his face, but he barely notices. He gingerly sits back and looks up at Snape, who is staring at him silently, paler than Harry has ever seen him and he feels sick… _freak_ , he thinks numbly, _he thinks I’m a freak…_

“I think we’ll stop… for today…” the Potion Master mumbles and Harry thinks he can make out the strain in his voice even though it’s as steady and emotionless as ever.

“O-Okay”, Harry mumbles, even though he’d like nothing more than to insist they keep going, to prove himself to the other man, he honestly doesn’t think he’d be able to take another minute of Occlumency right now, still feeling sick and faint.

Snape eyes him warily for a moment, saying nothing. Harry wonders if he’s expecting Voldemort to pop back in, and feels the impulse of a wry chuckle churn in his belly but doesn’t let it out.

Snape pockets his wand and strides out of the room without another word. For some reason, Harry experiences a sinking feeling. It’s not the first time since he arrived to Spinner’s End, but he still doesn’t get it. It’s like disappointment, like disappointment in himself whenever Snape is disappointed in him, as if it mattered to him one bit whether the professor was disappointed in him or not, as if he cared what the other man thought of him at all… _except_ , he thinks dully, _I do care what he thinks, not about my dad or Sirius, but what he thinks about_ me…

“Here…” the other man’s voice startles Harry slightly and he whips his head around to look at him.

Snape is standing mere feet away from him, holding out a goblet. His face is unreadable, but Harry thinks he might prefer that right now. He accepts the goblet silently, without getting up from the floor. He’s still feeling faint and whatever potion Snape has brought him might make him feel better, so he might as well drink it first before attempting to jump to his feet.

Snape is still eyeing him warily and Harry finds himself avoiding his gaze before long.

“Are you all right?” Snape asks in a neutral murmur.

Harry nods quickly, but keeps his eyes on the rug in front of him as he sniffs the potion experimentally. _Smells like tea_ , he thinks numbly and takes a careful sip.

“It’s tea”, Snape says and for a moment Harry thinks he can detect a note of amusement in his voice, but when he glances up at the man’s face it is as inscrutable as always. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine”, Harry lies and takes a larger sip of tea once it’s clear that the first hasn’t upset his stomach, scorching his tongue in the process.

“I didn’t know”, Snape says after a while.

“What?” Harry mumbles distractedly, still struggling with breathing and drowning the rising bile with tea.

“Dumbledore didn’t offer any details about what happened at the Ministry of Magic, he just told me it was crucial that you should learn Occlumency… I had guessed, of course…”

Harry nods.

“Well”, Snape says and looks away. “That was… good work, Potter…”

Harry snorts softly, before he can stop himself. Peering up at Snape through his lashes, he catches some of the colour returning to the older man’s face before he turns away and walks back into the kitchen.

“Time for a spot of lunch, I think”, Snape says resolutely over his shoulder. “Any requests?”

Harry feels his stomach churn unpleasantly again.

“I-I’m not really…”

“Eating is not optional”, Snape says firmly from the other room. “Have some tea. If the nausea persists, there’s a green vial on the second shelf in the bathroom that should do the trick.”

 

*

“Sir?” Harry says tentatively. “I was just wondering… I mean…”

“What is it, Potter?” Snape says without tearing his gaze from the book he’s been reading for the past couple of hours, and as if to emphasize that he isn’t going to, he turns the page carefully, his nimble fingers fluttering down onto the page as if reading braille.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh dear”, Snape mutters.

“About something Lupin said to me.”

Harry can tell the moment Snape stops reading, even though he puts on a convincing show of continuing. He takes a deep breath and walks over to the other armchair and sinks down on it. He starts to pull his feet up, but stops when Snape shoots them a warning glare and immediately places them firmly on the floor again. He watches the hole in the sock on his left foot intently, taking another deep breath.

Snape sighs, an impatient noise. Harry sits up straighter, steeling himself.

“Lupin told me that the first time he saw me, he’d known exactly who I and it wasn’t because of my scar, but… my eyes…”

Snape snaps the book shut. The noise seems almost deafening in the otherwise quiet room. Harry looks up. Snape isn’t looking at him, but Harry can tell that he’s conflicted, tormented even. For some reason, it encourages Harry to press on.

“He said they’re my mum’s”, he says. “He’s not the first one to tell me that, but it’s sort of… I dunno, it’s nice to hear…”

“I can imagine”, Snape mumbles.

“Anyway, that’s not… He told me a bit about her, what she was like. People keep telling me about my dad, or my mum _and dad_ , but he was the first one who talked about… just _her_ , you know?”

Snape looks at him then, and his eyes are definitely haunted. Harry feels his heart start to hammer away in his chest. _This is it_ , he thinks. _I just know it. He knows something, and he’ll tell me…_

“He said she was remarkable”, Harry says, finding it a little harder to breathe through the storm in his chest but not caring one bit.

“She was”, Snape murmurs and lets his gaze flit away from Harry again, resting it somewhere in the empty space in front of him.

“He said she had the ability to see the good in anyone, even… _especially_ … in those who couldn’t see it themselves…”

A ghost of a smile flickers across Snape’s face, but it’s gone just as soon and he looks more miserable than Harry has ever seen him.

“And you were wondering if she could see anything good in _me_ even…” he murmurs.

Harry’s heart skips a beat. _No_ , he thinks, except that was exactly what he’d thought. But hearing it from the other man like that, Harry felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Well, she did”, Snape adds. “Believe it or not.”

“Sir, that’s not what I—“

“It’s okay, Potter”, Snape says tiredly. “One day I shall probably tell you the whole story I imagine, but it won’t be today.”

“S-Story, Sir?” Harry asks, barely containing his excitement.

“It _won’t_ be today”, Snape repeats firmly and opens up the book again.

 

 


	3. A surprise visit

One morning Snape bursts into what is now _Harry_ _’_ _s room_ and the loud _bang_ from the door smashing into the wall startles Harry awake and he scrambles to a sitting position on the bed, legs tangled in the covers and hair standing on end, blinking blearily at the source of the noise and fumbling around on the nightstand, _fuck glasses, no wand wand_ , and the relief that flickers to life inside of him at the realisation _oh it_ _’_ _s just Snape_ is quickly squashed by a second, more alarming, realisation that Snape’s eyes are wild with panic and his face even whiter than usual.

“What? What?” Harry yelps, feeling his own pulse pick up automatically.

“Wizards”, Snape says shortly. “I heard them. Quickly!”

“W-what--?” Harry croaks again and fumbles with his glasses, nearly dropping them before managing to push them onto his face.

“Quickly!”Snape snarls again and grabs Harry by the arm and more or less drags him out of bed. 

“W-what do you mean you _heard_ \--?”

Snape gathers Harry’s trousers and shirt from the floor and tosses them at his head, successfully shutting him up for the moment.

“Heard them apparate. Come on, quickly now…”

“W-where am I going--?” Harry gasps pulling his shirt over his head and subsequently knocking off his glasses again, but he catches them automatically in mid-air and stumbles ahead of Snape who pushes him out of the room.

“What?” the older man hisses and gives him a final push into the hallway before turning away to seal the bedroom door shut with his wand.

An all too familiar lump starts to swell in Harry’s throat and he swallows desperately, _please_ , he thinks, _not now, not now, please don_ _’_ _t let me cry,_ and he pulls his trousers on to disguise the trembling in his hands. He clears his throat discretely, _pull yourself together, you knew this day would come!_

“W-where am I meant t-to go--?” he asks, aiming for casual and bold and strong even as he expects to hear Snape tell him he couldn’t care less as long as he got away from here, away from him, but Snape merely scowls at him and then proceeds to push and pull him, all the way into hall.

“You are not to go anywhere, you stupid boy!” he hisses and slams Harry into the bookcase, Harry winces as a few tomes topples over and falls to the floor next to them. “Nowhere!”

Snape taps one of the books next to Harry with his wand and a trap door springs open.

“But--?”

“ _Nowhere_!” Snape snaps again. “Not even out into the living room –  _whatever you may hear -_ have I made myself perfectly clear, Potter?”

Without giving Harry even a chance to reply, Snape presses a small vial of some unknown potion into his hands and gives him one final push. Harry stumbles back through the doorway and trips over his own feet and ends up sitting down on the staircase leading up to Snape’s private quarters, hard enough that his backside immediately starts throbbing with what will surely grow into a spectacular bruise. Snape doesn’t appear to have noticed, he’s already shutting the door again, and just in time too because just before it clicks shut Harry can hear _someone knocking on the front door_ and feels his heart start hammering away even harder than it already was.

He strains his ears and listens, muffled voices can be heard from the hall.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks desperately _. Fuck fuck fuck, what do I do? What do I do?_

He uncaps the potion Snape left him with shaky fingers, _But what am I supposed to do with it anyway?_ he thinks frantically. _Why the Hell didn_ _’_ _t he tell me?_

For a panicked moment Harry entertains the possibility that Snape has given him a poison of some sort, so that if worse comes to worse, Harry can top himself before he’s captured by the enemy, _like cyanide_ , but the thought is a very brief one because as soon as he gets a whiff of the potion he knows exactly what it is, he would recognise that stench anywhere, having made this potion himself once in second year with his friends Ron and Hermione, he knows exactly what it is and what Snape expects him to do.

The muffled voices in the hallway come closer and then Harry can hear footsteps, _definitely more than one set, at least three_ , entering into the living room and he quickly downs the polyjuice potion in one go and bites down on his own fist to keep himself from gagging.

The effect is instantaneous. Harry clutches at his stomach desperately as potions starts working on his insides, transforming him _into whom? Who am I supposed to be?_

Immediately Harry starts picturing a horrible scenario where he’s surrounded by Death Eaters, once again, expected to act inconspicuously, _else they kill Snape, else they kill both of us_ , expected to speak with the correct accent and timbre, say the right things and walk with the right gait, answer tons of questions…but before the whirl of thoughts has gained enough momentum to blossom into a full blown panic, a flash of silver catches his eye… _the hand_ …Harry barely refrains from gasping as he gently touches the silvery hand with his other, transformed but at least _natural_ , hand and realisation bursts inside him like a boil of bile.

“…Wormtail…”Snape’s voice travels through the bookcase and echoes Harry’s own thoughts, and before he’s had time to really register much of anything, the trapdoor has swung open with a bang and Harry snaps his head up and stares out of Wormtail’s beady little eyes into the room at Snape and his two visitors, one with platinum blonde hair and one with black, messy… _Bellatrix!_

Harry feels the all too familiar coil of pure rage stir to life in his gut…

“Wormtail--”Snape snaps at him, before quickly schooling his features into his stony, impassive mask again and continuing in a lazy drawl, “As you have clearly realised, we have guests.”

Harry feels his pulse pick up even more of a pace as he chances a couple of steps into the room, quickly glancing between the two women, neither of whom seem very concerned with him, and he lets his gaze rest a for a moment on the blonde woman’s face.

“Narcissa!”he squeaks as soon as he places her face, and her, fortunately having seen her once before at the Quidditch World Cup a year previous, when she was in the company of her husband Lucius and her son, Harry’s school rival, Draco Malfoy.

She’d barely glanced at him then, and now she wasn’t even looking in his direction.

“And Bellatrix!” Harry added quickly, mustering all of his self-control to keep the venom out of his voice and face. “How charming—“

“Wormtail”, Snape interrupts, possibly because Harry hadn’t been as successful at hiding his feeling as he’d thought, which wouldn’t be the first time this summer after all, or possibly to prevent him breaking character. “…will get us drinks, if you’d like them. And then _he will return to his bedroom_ …”

Harry bristles instinctively at that.

“I am not your servant!”he protests, careful to keep Wormtail’s customary whine in his voice, but glaring defiantly.

Snape returns the look unflinchingly, but Harry could have sworn he saw his dark eyes flash for a second and recoils reluctantly, but keeps scowling instead at the carpet.

“Really?” Snape murmurs silkily. “I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me.”

“To assist, y-yes…” Harry mutters, wondering how much of Snape’s conversation with the two Death Eaters he’d missed. “But not to make you drinks and- and clean your house!”

Glancing up quickly, Harry thought he detected a slight quirk of the older man’s mouth that could have been a barely-suppressed smile, but it was gone just as quickly and instead Snape sneered at him.

“I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments. This can be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord—“

“I can speak to him myself if I want to!”Harry cut in, because that’s precisely what Wormtail would do, despite lacking every conviction to back up his own words.

“Of course you can”, said Snape, sneering all the while. “But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do.”

Harry hesitates for a second, glancing at Snape’s face he searches for _something, a sign_ , but of course it would be both foolish and reckless of Snape to do anything to break character in this situation, so Harry gives a small nod and scurries out of the room and into the small kitchen.

 _Elf-made wine, elf-made wine_ , he thinks frantically as he searches the shelves whilst keeping his ears peeled for any continued conversation out in the living room, but the three Death Eaters remain quiet and coolly composed, with the exception of Narcissa who is barely managing to hold herself together, wrecked with fear or worry or something, Harry tries to study her face more closely as he walks back out carrying the tray with, what he hoped was elf-made wine, and three glasses, briefly wondering what Snape would have done if he’d also brought a glass for himself, but Narcissa promptly turns her face away from him when he approaches.

Harry frowns, but puts the tray down and back up a few paces. Snape shoots him a quick, warning glare and Harry instantly scurries back to the staircase and slams the trapdoor shut behind him. He carefully puts his ear against it and listens.

 _“_ _The Dark Lord_ _”_ , Snape’s muffled voice reaches him after a moment, and Harry pictures him raising one of the glasses in a toast and feels something cold squirm in his gut.

 _“_ _Severus_ _”_ _,_ Narcissa says after another moment, and at hearing the professor’s first name Harry feels a strange jolt inside for some reason. _“_ _I_ _’_ _m sorry to come here like this, but I had to see you. I think you are the only one who can help me_ _…”_

Harry’s heart starts hammering harder again, so hard in fact that he’s sure the others will be able to hear…

No sooner has he thought this, when suddenly an invisible force shoots through the trapdoor with a loud _bang_ and punches him hard in the chest, sending him sprawling out on his back on the stairs with a painful yelp.

 _“_ _My apologies_ _”_ , Snape says on the other side of the door, _not to me either,_ Harry thinks surly and rubs the new bruise on his backside and glares at the inside of the door as though Snape will be able to sense it. _“_ _He has lately taken to listening at doors, I don_ _’_ _t know what he means by it_ _…_ _you were saying, Narcissa?_ _”_

 _Does he really think I_ _’_ _ve left?_ Harry thinks incredulously, feeling almost affronted at the idea, as if a simple repellent jinx would force him to back down. He creeps closer to the door again and rests his ear carefully against it, wishing he had an Extendable Ear on him…

As Bellatrix starts questioning Snape’s loyalties, Harry feels another jolt of excitement, but not nearly as pleasant as the first one he’d felt at hearing Snape’s first name, which had tickled a bit, but now his insides are squirming uncomfortably, his stomach is churning, he feels sick, and the more he listens to Snape talk, the more he hears him spin his lies, _please let them be lies_ , the more sick he feels.

 _“_ _You are avoiding my last question, Snape_ _”_ _,_ Bellatrix demands and Harry thinks _no, please don_ _’_ _t_ , and he thinks _why the fuck didn_ _’_ _t I just go upstairs?_

 _”_ _Harry Potter_ _”_ _,_ she ploughs on mercilessly. _“_ _You could have killed him at any point in the past five years. You have not done it._ Why? _”_

Without realising it, Harry is holding his breath, waiting to hear Snape’s answer, yet doesn’t _want_ to hear Snape’s answer. _It doesn_ _’_ _t matter anyway,_ he thinks. _It doesn_ _’_ _t matter what he tells her. It_ _’_ _s just lies. Just part of the cover. Part of the plan._

 _“…_ _when Potter first arrived at Hogwarts there were still many stories circulating about him, rumours that he himself was a great Dark wizard_ _”_ _,_ Snape’s words slither through to Harry’s consciousness and he finds himself listening anyway, because this particular story is unfamiliar to him. _“…_ _many of the Dark Lord_ _’_ _s old followers thought Potter might be a standard around which we could all rally once more. I was curious_ _…”_

Harry swallows convulsively as bile rises in his throat once more.

 _“…_ _Of course, it became apparent to me very quickly that he had no extraordinary talent at all._ _”_

Harry barely represses a scoff and turns his back to the door, as if that would shut Snape’s speech out. He feels a stinging behind his eyes and blinks it away furiously, feeling embarrassed and angry in equal measures but unsure of whom the emotions should rightly be directed at, Snape or himself.

 _“_ _Potter has fought his way out of a number of tight corners by a simple combination of sheer luck and more talented friends. He is mediocre to the last degree, though as obnoxious and self-satisfied as was his father_ _—“_

Harry promptly stuffs his fingers in his ears, unable to hear any more and he screws his eyes shut too just to be safe, _shutupshutupshutupSHUTUP_ he thinks desperately.

When Harry removes his fingers from his ears again a while later, Snape is still talking, but his tone is different now, _he_ _’_ _s not talking about me anymore_ , Harry thinks and angles himself towards the door again and listens carefully.

 _“…_ _I know of the plan. I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in on the secret, Narcissa, you would have been guilty of great treachery to the Dark Lord._ _”_

 _Plan_ , Harry thinks furiously, his pulse picking up yet again. _What plan?_

 _“…_ _But what help do you require, Narcissa? If you are imagining that I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I am afraid there is no hope, none at all._ _”_

 _“_ _Severus_ _…_ _My son, my only son_ _…”_ Narcissa whispers so quietly that Harry can barely make out the words, and at first he thinks he must have misheard her, because she couldn’t be talking about…

 _“_ _Draco should be proud_ _”_ , Bellatrix exclaims and Harry’s heart skips a beat.

The rest of the conversation washes over Harry in a rush of new bits and pieces of information that struggles with the horrific images cooked up by his own imagination. But from the facts gathered throughout the conversation, he gleans that Voldemort has a job for Draco Malfoy, _Draco of all people, he_ _’_ _s just a kid,_ Harry ironically finds himself thinking _,_ _and yes, Malfoy and I might despise each other, but that_ _’_ _s school, that_ _’_ _s not real life_ , except now Voldemort has given him a job to do, a very _real_ , dangerous job that no-one seems to expect him to be able to carry off, least of all Voldemort himself apparently, and just to punish his dad, _and Snape_ _…_ Harry swallows hard…Feeling slightly numb… _Snape is going to help him._

Harry doesn’t know what an _Unbreakable Vow_ is, but he can guess. And judging by the palpable tension in the room, so thick that Harry can actually feel it all the way here in his little hiding place, it’s serious. _And Snape_ _’_ _s just agreeing to it_ , he thinks furiously. _What_ _’_ _s he playing at!_

 _“_ _Should it prove necessary_ _”_ _,_ Narcissa murmurs breathlessly on the other side of the door _._ _“_ _If it seems Draco will fail_ _…_ _will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?_ _”_

For a moment everything is silent.

Harry doesn’t dare breathe.

 _Please, please, please,_ he thinks desperately, but he’s not even quite sure himself what he’s asking for.

 _“_ _I will_ _”_ , says Snape finally.

Harry quickly presses both hands to his face, smothering the dry heave that rips through him.

There’s a ringing in his head, a dull pounding not unlike the ache in his scar, except this pain swirls all around his skull and then trickles into the rest of his body like a cold snake slithering through his veins…and then it strikes him suddenly… _the polyjuice potion_ …not caring if he’s heard anymore, Harry scrambles to his feet and bolts up the stairs.

He topples over the top step and stumbles onto the cramped landing, barely taking the time to catch his breath, he wrenches open the singular door he finds there and hurries inside. He’s not sure what he’s running from exactly, if it’s the Death Eaters or Snape, or even more ludicrously, the stuff he’s just heard. He leans back against the door the minute it’s shut behind him and looks out into the dim room.

With a jolt he realises that this must be Snape’s bedroom, his _actual_ bedroom, _where he sleeps and stuff_ _…_ for some reason, Harry never thinks of Snape as entirely human, so to be reminded like this that the other man does in fact get undressed at the end of the day and crawls under the covers of his bed _as opposed to a coffin or something_ , makes Harry feel a whole myriad of confusing feelings.  

Hearing the soft sound of a door creaking open, Harry immediately springs to life again and for some reason unbeknownst to himself more than anyone, Harry climbs on top of the bed rather than diving underneath it. Of course, it would be embarrassing beyond belief if Snape came upstairs and found him hiding under his bed.

 _But finding me_ in _his bed is_ much _better_ , Harry thinks sarcastically, but by this point it’s entirely too late to change his mind because the door handle is already turning.

The door swings open silently. And then he’s there, _Snape_ , framed in the doorway like a big, black-and-white statue staring down at Harry with bemused and slightly stunned expression on his pale, pointed face.

“Potter…”he says, and it’s impossible to interpret the emotion behind the tone of voice, carefully disguised as it is still. “What…do you think…you’re doing?”

“What”, Harry grumbles defensively.

He immediately feels his face heat up and he pulls his knees up closer to his body and hugs them, well aware of the image he’s presenting his professor with, ironically after two weeks of trying to convince the man that he’s not a child, here he is, the very picture of one, scared and sulking, at the far corner of the man’s own bed.

Snape carefully lets go of the door handle, almost as an after-thought. His gaze is unwavering, piercing. Harry bites his lip, _don_ _’_ _t cry, don_ _’_ _t cry_ , but his eyes start stinging anyway.

“How much did you hear?”Snape murmurs.

“I dunno…some of it”, Harry mutters truthfully, having had his fingers stuffed in his ears for part of the conversation, but he doesn’t tell Snape that. “Enough.”

Snape nods. His gaze wanders away from Harry and seems to rest on something in the empty space in front of him for a moment. Then he nods again.

“Well, I understand it will be a difficult feat, but you’d do well to try and forget—“

“Forget!”Harry exclaims incredulously.

“I could modify your memory…”Snape mumbles, but he doesn’t even seem to believe it himself and barely acknowledges when Harry exclaims _Like Hell you will_ , but keeps staring into space, clearly deep in thought. “Well, I have to talk to Dumbledore, preferably before nightfall…”

Something tight in Harry’s chest unclenches at the mention of the Headmaster, as if a small part of him was actually worried that Snape wasn’t lying after all.

“Yeah”, he breathes out, unabashedly relieved and Snape glances at him but doesn’t comment. “Yeah, that’s good. Dumbledore can fix it. He’ll fix it so you won’t have to—“

“Potter”, Snape interrupts softly. “Not even Dumbledore can fix this…you need to prepare yourself—“

“W-what do you mean—?“

“I have just made an _Unbreakable Vow_ to help Draco Malfoy carry out a…an assignment for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…and if that should fail, carry it out for him…”

Snape seemed impossibly even paler than Harry had ever seen him, almost ashen. Harry felt a bit sick again.

“S-so?”he said, desperately, _hopefully_. “W-we’ll think of some w-way t-to break it…”

A soft sound escaped Snape, it could have been a scoff or a chuckle, but since his face was set in its most perfect emotionless mask it was impossible to tell.

“Potter”, he mutters again, then glances over at Harry again. “Why are you in my bed?”

Harry feels his cheeks flare up again.

“Not in your bed, ‘m on it…”he mumbles, then looks up and meets the other man’s gaze defiantly.

Snape actually chuckles then. And it’s so bizarre that momentarily Harry forgets all the other stuff.

“Yes”, Snape agrees softly. “Of course…I think I’ll need to eat something before I head out. Come on…”

The thought of food makes Harry’s stomach churn unpleasantly, but he eagerly follows the professor back downstairs anyway, eager to make the most of this curious, softer side to him while it lasts.

“Why did you have to make this stupid vow then if it’s such a big deal”, Harry mutters halfway through supper and Snape scowls down at his plate, but doesn’t answer immediately. “I mean, who cares if Malfoy fails anyway—?“

“Not you, clearly.”

“Why should I?” Harry demands.

“Potter”, Snape says. “Let it be.”

“No”, Harry says stubbornly, his stomach churning again at the sound of Snape calling him Potter in that disdainful way of him… _Potter has fought his way out of tight corners by a simple combination of sheer luck and more talented friends... He is mediocre_ _…_ _though as obnoxious and self-satisfied as was his father_ _…_

“Potter”, Snape says again, and this time there’s definitely a warning in his voice.

“What, because he’s in your precious house, is that it? Or because he’s your favourite?”

Harry doesn’t know why that bothers him so much all of a sudden, it’s not like he’d ever delude himself into thinking he could ever compete with the prat about that particular role. Even if Malfoy wasn’t Snape’s all-time favourite student, Harry would still be his all-time _least_ favourite and that has nothing to do with Malfoy… _But why do I care?_ Harry thinks irritably and staring into Snape’s face he gets the impression that the older man is wondering the same thing, luckily though, he doesn’t ask it aloud. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. And Harry really should shut up and back down, while he still has a chance of escaping this scene unscathed, but it’s like a dam has been broken inside of him and for the life of him he can’t seem to stop.

“That’s why you have to go and fuck everything up!”he more or less yells in the other man’s face. “Just because your damn _precious_ _Draco_ —!“

“Potter, that is _enough_!”

For some reason that manages to shut Harry up immediately, and it seems to surprise Snape even more than it surprises himself because the man simply blinks at him a couple of times and although he’s opened his mouth to speak, not words actually make it out.

Harry sinks down further in his seat and glares at his plate. It becomes slightly blurred after a moment, and Harry is so angry that he doesn’t even care that Snape can see him, _crying, weak, mediocre_ _…_

The older man sighs heavily and puts his fork down with a gentle clang against the plate.

“I need to get going…”he mumbles and gets to his feet.

Harry continues to glare at his barely touched food until he hears the front door shut with a gentle click, and then he jumps to his feet and walks over to the window. Snape strides down the street and with quick twirl, he disapparates. 


	4. Meltdowns and Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s heart hammers harder and harder in his chest, his fingers start to tingle unpleasantly, must be the adrenalin, I’m fine, he thinks desperately, it’s fine, Dumbledore will fix it, Snape is just being pessimistic, Dumbledore can fix anything… 
> 
>  
> 
> Not even Dumbledore can fix this… Potter… You need to prepare yourself… Potter! 
> 
>  
> 
> ”Stupid, stubborn, stupid…” Harry mutters under his breath, wringing his hands, trying to make the tingling stop already. ”Why’d you have to go and make it then, if it’s such a big deal…”

Harry restlessly scans the titles of the part of Snape’s book collection that is kept in the sitting room and finally selects one that he gingerly coaxes out of its place in the bookcase and brings it over to one of the armchairs, and not the one he usually occupies, but _Snape’s_ armchair. 

 

He thumbs through the book for a while, but the words start to swim before his eyes before long and he sighs, putting the book down on the floor. With a jolt he pictures Snape’s reaction when he comes home and sees one of his precious books, on the dusty floor… then he immediately feels guilty and picks it up again, and puts it back in its place on the shelf. 

 

He considers putting his feet up on the seat, but can’t really bring himself to, sure somehow that Snape will _just know_ … He lets his left foot swing back and forth, the heel knocking against the armchair’s leg, _thump thump thump_ … With a strangled growl, he jumps to his feet and starts pacing the floor instead, making sure to glance through the doorway towards the front door on every turn… He hasn’t looked at the kitchen clock, can’t really bring himself to, but he’s sure it’s been _hours_ … _Where is he?_

 

Harry’s heart hammers harder and harder in his chest, his fingers start to tingle unpleasantly, _must be the adrenalin, I’m fine_ , he thinks desperately, _it’s fine, Dumbledore will fix it, Snape is just being pessimistic, Dumbledore can fix_ anything… 

 

_Not even Dumbledore can fix this… Potter… You need to prepare yourself… Potter!_

 

”Stupid, stubborn, stupid…” Harry mutters under his breath, wringing his hands, trying to make the tingling _stop already._ ”Why’d you have to go and make it then, if it’s such a big deal…”

 

At some point, his eyes have filled with tears _but what else is new_ , he thinks bitterly, _that’s all I’m good at, collapsing at his feet and bloody crying about it, hiding in his bedroom when he needed me, it’s all my fault…_ He sniffs miserbly, and somehow, that one little sniffle seems to send a signal to his brain that says, _go on then_ because before he knows it, hot stinging tears are streaming down his face and he’s fisting his hair like that would make his head throb less… 

 

_All my fault_

 

Harry crumbles in a pitiful heap in the middle of the floor, hiding his mess of a head in his arms, and stifling his whimpers against his knees. 

 

_All my fault, all my fault, all my fault_

 

And now it’s not just Snape’s ashen face staring at him from the bedroom doorway; it’s Sirius falling through the veil; it’s Lupin’s blood shot eyes; it’s Cedric’s dead eyes and his father throwing himself over his lifeless body and wailing as the crowd’s cheers turns to worried murmurs; it’s the entire Weasley clan staring at him while awaiting news about Mr Weasley after Nagini’s attack; every single thing Harry has ever felt bad about assaults him in a montage of _pain_ and _guilt_ until he’s choking on his own sobs… His chest is going to explode… He can’t breathe, _he can’t breathe…_

 

Suddenly there are hands on him, grabbing and shaking, and a voice, a cold, familiar voice calling out to him, and Harry finally manages to draw a shallow, shaky breath… The hands pull and pull, and then there are arms around him and he’s buried his wet face in cool, soft, black linen… and a man’s chest, _Snape’s chest,_ an exhausted part of him realises, and he should feel embarrassed, but he just feels _safe_ … 

 

”Breathe”, Snape’s voice rumbles all around him. ” _Breathe_ , Harry…”

 

Harry pushes his face harder against Snape’s chest and fists the fabric of his robe, just in case, because suddenly he’s sure that Snape’s presence, Snape’s closeness, is the only thing making him breathe again, as illogical as that may be, and the thought of Snape pushing him away again is simply _terrifying_. 

 

”It’s alright”, Snape murmurs and his hands move in soothing patterns over Harry’s back. ”It’s alright, just breathe…”

 

”I-I-I’m s-sorry…” Harry gasps through another sob and pushes his face even harder against Snape, this time out of embarassment, as if hiding his face would also hide the fact that he’s completely unravelled and Snape is here to witness it. 

 

Snape hushes him and then continues to stroke his back silently for what feels like hours, until Harry’s breathing has evened out and he’s finally run out of tears. The older man stops stroking his back, but doesn’t immediately push him away, but continues to hold him. 

 

Harry keeps clinging onto his front, but turns his head to the side and gulps down a couple of deep breaths. 

 

”You okay?” Snape murmurs emotionlessly. 

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry says quietly, voice steady again. ”I don’t know what happened, I just couldn’t breathe…” 

 

”You were having a panic attack”, Snape says. 

 

”I’m sorry”, Harry repeats. 

 

Snape sighs and gently moves one hand up and down, once, in the space between Harry’s shoulder blades, then he lets both hands circle his shoulders and gently rests them on top, _getting ready to push me away_ , Harry thinks with a sinking feeling.

 

”Don’t be silly”, Snape mutters. ”Nothing to be sorry for…”

 

”Well I am”, Harry mumbles stubbornly and, just as stubbornly, keeps clinging to the man’s robes. 

 

”Are you okay now?” Snape asks again, and Harry nods, his salty cheek stinging as he scrapes it against Snape’s robe front. ”Then might I suggest—”

 

”No”, Harry interrupts quickly. 

 

There is a moment of silence in which Harry waits with bated breath for Snape to speak, and all he can hear is the man’s _heartbeat_ , although it’s more of a feeling than a sound, really…

 

”No?” Snape says curiously, and Harry is reminded of that soft look on his face when he was standing in the bedroom doorway. 

 

”Not yet”, Harry clarifies, and feels his face heat up slightly. ”Please?”

 

”It’s late”, Snape says softly. ”You’re exhausted.”

 

 _Yeah, and_ you _must be exhausted,_ Harry thinks and feels a twinge of guilt. 

 

He takes a deep breath, as if to steel himself, and then carefully lets go of Snape’s robe. His fingers feel stiff and tense, and he flexes them a little while avoiding the older man’s eyes. He can feel them on his face, burning with intensity and intrigue, _but he probably just thinks I’m a freak and he’s worried I’ll fly off the handle again_ , Harry thinks bitterly. 

 

”Harry?” Snape murmurs quietly. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry croaks, looking away. 

 

”You don’t need to feel embarrassed.”

 

Harry swallows down the small lump in his throat and glances over at the man shyly. He’s calm and composed, but it’s more than that. There’s a tension to the stillness. _He really_ is _scared I’ll fly off the handle_ , Harry thinks. 

 

He quickly glances up into Snape’s face, then turns away again. 

 

Snape slowly moves away from him again and gingerly gets to his feet, then he offers Harry a hand and more or less pulls him up to standing, when Harry’s knees buckle under his weight. Snape’s arm instinctively comes around his back and supports him until he gets the strength back in his legs. 

 

”Thanks”, Harry whispers. 

 

Snape’s arm falls away again, and without thinking about what he’s doing Harry lets his hand sneak out and brush against Snape’s. The skin on skin contact makes his hand tingle, but not like before, more of a tickling sensation. 

 

”Bed”, Snape says in a poor imitation of his usual stern tone, but the intention is clear and Harry nods and pads over to his bedroom door. 

 

He hesitates on the threshold, until he feels Snape moving behind him and walking up to him. There’s a barely-there brush of fingertips against the plane of his shoulder blade, merely a whisper of the contact they’ve just shared, but Harry will take it. 

 

He feels the last remnants of tension seep out of his body, and he almost falls asleep standing up, _Snape’s right, I’m exhausted_ , he thinks, _why’s he always right…_  

 

Snape’s fingertips return to his shoulder, more assertive this time, and he’s gently pushed over the threshold. And before he knows it, Harry has crossed the room and collapsed on the bed. He’s vaguely aware of Snape’s presence above him and the covers being maneouvered out from underneath his heavy body and then gently draped over him instead. 

 

 _Snape’s tucking me in_ , Harry thinks happily before sleep overtakes him. 


	5. Change of plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape is always keeping a watchful eye on Harry, but he’s usually subtle about it. Now, he’s out-right staring, Harry thinks. He’s not just wary of me breaking something of his or falling on my face, he thinks I’m going to having another meltdown at any moment…

When Harry pads into the kitchen the next morning, Snape is sat at the table finishing up his breakfast and, unlike any of the few other mornings when Harry has caught him eating, he remains seated even as Harry drops onto the chair opposite. 

 

They eye each other warily across the top of the tattered tea cozy before Snape snatches it off the pot and pours Harry a cup of tea. 

 

”Thanks”, Harry mumbles quietly as he accepts the cup. 

 

”Welcome…” Snape murmurs. 

 

Harry ducks his head and sips the tea quietly for a moment, avoiding the older man’s eyes as he replays the events of the previous night in his head, feeling more and more of a fool with every image. He can feel Snape’s eyes on him and briefly glances up to meet them before swiftly looking away again. 

 

Snape is always keeping a watchful eye on Harry, but he’s usually subtle about it. _Now, he’s out-right staring_ , Harry thinks. _He’s not just wary of me breaking something of his or falling on my face, he thinks I’m going to have another meltdown at any moment…_

 

”How did you sleep?” Snape asks finally, breaking the tense silence and Harry should welcome the conversation but all he can do is shrug uncomfortably. ”Are you feeling better today?”

 

”I’m fine”, Harry mutters. 

 

Snape nods, surprising Harry by accepting the lie. _But of course he didn’t buy it, he just don’t want to push me_ , Harry figures. 

 

”Well”, Snape says, finally looking down at his own clasped hands instead and Harry automatically relaxes his posture a little. ”Dumbledore and I both feel that, in light of recent events, it is no longer safe for you to stay here with m—… here _at Spinner’s End_ …”

 

”What?” Harry says. 

 

His heart does a double knock against his breast bone as if to tell him to _look sharp_ and he sits up straight in his chair again. For the first time this morning he _wants_ Snape to look him in the eye so that he can have even a fighting chance of reading the man’s face, but Snape is looking anywhere but in Harry’s direction now and his face is even more unreadable than normal. 

 

”We’ll wait for the cover of darkness”, Snape says quietly. 

 

”What, tonight? I have to leave tonight?” Harry says, his voice rising of its own accord. 

 

Snape nods once, then scowls a little at his hands still tightly clasped together on the table top before he unclasps them and quickly gets to his feet. 

 

”But—!” Harry starts to protest, but before he can say anything Snape has disappeared out of the kitchen with his equivalent of _the last word_ , a dramatic swirl of robes.

 

 _Fuck that_ , Harry thinks and scrambles to follow him out into the sitting room. Snape hasn’t positioned himself in his armchair like he usually does after breakfast however. Harry whips his head around and catches sight of his hand on the trap door to the stairs leading up to his bedroom just as he’s about to close it.

 

”Hey!” Harry calls out. 

 

The hand reappears in the crack and pushes the door open again and Snape glares at Harry from the bottom step of the narrow staircase and it’s not one of his worst glares, more exasperated than anything but Harry quickly adds a _Sir_ anyway, just to be safe. Snape turns his face away with a subtle eyeroll, and Harry would feel indignant if he wasn’t already overwhelmed by a mix of other more prevalent feelings. 

 

”Relax. Before you start to piss and moan about it—” Snape says in a long-suffering tone of voice. 

 

 _Snape swore,_ Harry thinks hysterically.

 

”I don’t _moan_ —!” he splutters, but the other man ignores him. 

 

”You’ll be spending the last days of your holidays at the Burrow.”

 

Snape gives Harry a meaningful look as if to say, _See, you’d like that wouldn’t you?_ and Harry would, of course he would. He spent the first half of the summer daydreaming about going to the Burrow to hang out with his best friends and makeshift family instead of of being stuck with the Dursleys. But even so… the thought of leaving Spinner’s End now, _of leaving Snape_ and their daily routine that he’s got used to, even comfortable with, and so suddenly, even if it _is_ to go to the Burrow, makes Harry feel kind of hollow inside. 

 

”That’s what you wanted in the first place, isn’t it”, Snape says and surprisingly enough there’s no scatching undertone to it, it’s almost as if…

 

 _He’s appeasing me, like I’m some pouting little child_ , Harry thinks and this time he does feel indignant.

 

”What about… ehm… my Occlumency lessons?” he demands. 

 

Snape doesn’t reply but raises an eyebrow delicately, and it speaks volumes as usual. Harry juts out his chin defiantly and folds his arms though, stubbornly maintaining the eyelock. 

 

”School term starts in a couple of days”, Snape reminds him. 

 

 _It’s only for a couple of days_ , Harry translates and glowers at him. 

 

”Stop treating me like a child!” He demands. 

 

Snape blinks, slightly taken aback.

 

”Fine. But I suggest you start packing. We leave at dusk…”

 

”That’s hours—!” Harry calls after him, but Snape swiftly shuts the door behind him and then he’s gone and Harry is left glaring at a couple of gigantic Potions books instead.

*

 

Harry is still fuming when Snape reappeares in the sitting room a few hours later and glowers at him from his position in the man’s armchair. Snape pauses for a second in the doorway, simply taking in the sight of a ruffled, glaring teenager in his chair, but quickly decides to ignore him and strides into the kitchen without as much as a twitch of eyebrow in response to Harry’s scowl, which only makes Harry more angry with him. 

 

He jumps up from the armchair and follows the other man into the kitchen and glares daggers at his back as he’s bustling about, preparing a late lunch or early dinner. Harry’s stomach rumbles a little quietly, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten anything and it’s almost enough to distract him when the smells of whatever Snape is putting together in the big casserole starts filling up the kitchen. 

 

”You can chop some onions if you want to help”, Snape says with his back still turned to Harry and if the inviting smell of food wasn’t enough to completely distract Harry, _that_ at least was.

 

”You want me to help?” he asks in shock. 

 

He’s been offering to help out in the kitchen several times, but Snape is almost as protective of his kitchen space as he is of his Potions storeroom at Hogwarts and Harry had come to assume that the reason he always turned Harry down was because he didn’t trust him enough to do it right. 

 

”One and a half should do. The chopping board is over there…” 

 

The man points towards the other end of the kitchen counter, still without turning to look at Harry. 

 

”Okay”, Harry says and tries not to seem too eager as he grabs the wooden chopping board and a couple of onions from the hanging basket above his head. 

 

”You’ll find a knife in the second drawer”, Snape says. 

 

”Okay”, Harry says again. 

 

He closes the distance between them and pulls the drawer out and grabs one of the larger knives with a slightly shaky hand. Immediately he feels Snape’s attentive eyes on him and wills his hands to steady. 

 

He starts peeling the onions and cuts them both in half, concentrating hard on keeping his hands steady and his posture relaxed. _Be cool, don’t drop anything, don’t cut yourself, don’t cry…_ he tells himself, even as his eyes start stinging more and more with every cut. 

 

He senses Snape in his peripheral the whole time and notices when the man straightens up further and turns to him. _Damn it_ , Harry swears silently as the knife slips over a piece of onion and nicks the side of his fingers. 

 

”That’s enough”, Snape says with a sigh. 

 

He flicks his wand towards Harry’s hand and the little cut immediately closes again and the sting disappears. 

 

”I’m not crying”, Harry blurts out and accidentally blinks a couple of tears out of his eyes. 

 

He gestures towards the uneven bits of onion on the chopping board in explanation, as if Snape wouldn’t be aware of that already. Snape gives him an unimpressed look, but says nothing. 

 

Harry gingerly grabs the chopping board and carries it over to the stove and tries to find the best way to angle it over the casserole. 

 

”Thank you”, Snape says hurriedly and takes the chopping board from him.

 

Harry lets his shoulders sag a little and nods, before turning away and taking his seat at the table. 

 

Snape finishes up the casserole with some herbs and a dab of cream, then levitates it over to the middle of the table before grabbing the half-empty bottle of elf-made wine from the shelf where Harry had found it the day before. He gives Harry an appraising look, then holds the bottle out in invitation over Harry’s cup with a questioning twitch of eyebrow. 

 

”Really?” Harry says. ”But I’m not seventeen yet…”

 

”I know you’re not. However, I’m sure half a goblet of wine won’t kill you.”

 

”Oh yeah no, of course not, thanks, yeah I’ll have some, thanks…” Harry babbles, before catching himself and biting down on his lip. 

 

Snape’s eyes twinkle a little with amusement for a second, but he he doesn’t say anything just pours some of the wine into Harry’s cup, then the rest into his own and takes his seat. 

 

”Thanks”, Harry says again. 

 

”You’re welcome”, Snape murmurs. 

 

Harry takes a sip of the wine, but finds it to be quite bitter. As if reading his mind, Snape conjures up a glass of water for him and Harry alternates his sips until he starts to get used to the taste. He’s actually beginning to appreciate the rich flavour of it when he’s down to the last drops. They sit in somewhat comfortable silence, Harry eating his food eagerly and Snape mostly pushing his around on his plate and sipping his wine.

 

”Sir? Why do I have to leave?” Harry asks finally, careful to keep his tone light but the other man tenses up all the same. ”I mean, it’s just a few more days until school starts anyway. You said so yourself.”

 

Snape leans back in his chair and favours Harry with one of his penetrative stares that seems to reach inside your very mind, and Harry instinctively sends his mental shields up like he’s been taught by Snape during their Occlumency lessons. Snape smirks slightly, then looks away and drains the last drops of wine from his goblet. 

 

”It’s just that I was starting to feel like we were really getting… somewhere, you know, in my lessons…” Harry continues feebly. 

 

”Yes”, Snape says. ”You’ve certainly made some progress while you’ve been here. But all you really need to do now is practise, and keep doing your relaxation exercises before bed…”

 

”Right”, Harry mutters. ”Relaxation exercises.”

 

”Yes, and I’m afraid I couldn’t help you with those anyway”, Snape says snidely and Harry feels his cheeks heat up slightly. ”You’ll be able to continue practising at the Burrow, and after that at Hogwarts.”

 

”What if I need your help? Or what if I have questions?”

 

Snape frowns slightly at him, but doesn’t answer. Instead he clears the table with a flick of his wand and then gets to his feet. 

 

”Did you finish packing?” he asks, changing the subject. 

 

”It’s not dark yet”, Harry counters feebly, glancing out the window and realising with a sinking feeling that the dark grey of the sky outside will be an inky black within minutes. 

 

”Get your things”, Snape says sharply. 

 

”Fine…” Harry mutters and pads out of the kitchen.

 

He doesn’t understand why he’s so reluctant to leave. He’s missed Ron and Hermione so much all summer, but now that he’s finally about to see them, and Ginny, and the other Weasleys, it’s like he doesn’t want to anymore. 

 

 _But it’s not like that,_ he thinks as he throws the last of his books and socks into his trunk. _I_ do _want to see them, and I_ do _want to go to the Burrow, I just don’t want to leave here… because I kind of like hanging out with Snape, when he’s not being a complete git to me…_

 

And that’s the real issue, if Harry is being honest with himself. He’s worried that he’ll leave Spinner’s End and whatever magic that has made Snape almost-nice to him all summer will be broken and he’ll show up at Hogwarts in a few days and Snape will be just as horrible to him as he always is. 

 

Just the thought of it makes Harry’s stomach clench painfully. 

 

 _”Hurry up!”_ Snape calls from the other side of the door. 

 

Harry sighs, shrinking his trunk and Hedwig’s cage and putting them in his pockets. Hedwig is still off hunting, but he knows she’ll either find him at the Burrow or just head straight for Hogwarts. 

 

_”Potter!”_

 

Harry takes one last look at the small, but cosy room that he’s started to think of as his own, then with a deep breath he joins Snape out in the hall. 

 

”Took you long enough”, the man mutters. ”Didn’t you have all day to pack?”

 

”Sir, do you mind calling me Harry? Just… When it’s the two of us… Please?”

 

”I’ll call you whatever you want if you hurry up”, Snape grouses and strides out of the sitting room and out the front door. 

 

*

 

The second time Side-Apparating is just as awful as the first, and Harry has to swallow compulsively to keep himself from vomiting. What has changed, is that it doesn’t feel nearly as awkward to be near Snape. Harry even lingers close to him once they’ve landed in the field outside the Burrow, gripping his arm loosely in his hand still. Snape gives him a questioning look, but doesn’t wrench his arm free nor step away from Harry. 

 

”Are you all right?” he asks quietly.

 

Harry peers up at him and simply nods, then finally lets his hand fall away from Snape’s arm but doesn’t step back. 

 

”Harry…” the older man murmurs, but trails off. 

 

”Yeah?” Harry says, oddly breathless all of a sudden, his heart beating harder, faster. 

 

”We’re exposed here, we need to get you inside.”

 

”Is that really what you wanted to say?” Harry says, letting his disappointment shine through. 

 

”Now”, Snape snaps. 

 

Harry rolls his eyes, but relents. He lets the other man grab him by the shoulder and steer him towards the Weasley’s assymetric house. Harry is gripped by a strong sense of nostalgia and for a moment he forgets his worries about Snape and just feels _home_. But when they reach the front door and the man’s hand falls off his shoulder again Harry feels colder immediately. 

 

He turns around to face him, to say something, _anything_ , while he still has a chance, but Snape glances at him quickly and then hurries to reach over his shoulder and knock on the door. It opens almost instantly and before he knows it, Harry has been enveloped in a big warm hug, Mrs Weasley’s voice exclaiming his name as she cruches him in her arms. 

 

”…And Severus, what a lovely surprise! Come in, both of you!”

 

”No thank you”, Snape murmurs. ”I can’t stay. I merely wanted to make sure Harry got here safely, as per Dumbledore’s request…”

 

”Oh, of course, well if you’re sure you can’t stay”, Mrs Weasley says and finally lets Harry go again, although she keeps combing her fingers through his hair, as if that would have any effect on it’s rebellious tousles. ”I’ve made some soup though, if you want some before you leave…”

 

”Thank you, but no”, Snape says again. ”I really must be on my way…”

 

Then he turns to leave, and Harry is gripped by a sudden fear _that this is it._ Harry lutches forward and steps closer to the man again, to do what he isn’t sure, _to grab him, to make him stay…_

”S-So I’ll see you in a couple of days… then…” he says lamely. 

 

”Yes, I’ll see you at Hogwarts”, Snape says with his back still turned.

 

”Okay, well… Bye then, Severus…” 

 

Snape stills his movements for a moment, and Harry’s heartbeat picks up again. And for a split second, he thinks Snape will turn back to face him, to say _goodbye_ properly, maybe _Goodbye Harry, I’ll see you soon_ or something like that, _nothing too dramatic, but something,_ and he _does_ turn… Harry holds his breath… And suddenly he’s gazing out into a never-ending darkness; Snape has Disapparated.


	6. Draco's Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s with mixed feelings that Harry blinks the sleep from his eyes and slips his glasses onto his face the next morning, allowing the familiar Chudley Cannon poster-covered walls of his best friend Ron’s room to slowly take shape around him; the sight fills him with joy and relief and a sense of home that he’d never experienced once at Privet Drive, but there’s also a sense of dread, and melancholy.... 
> 
> Even as he sits up in the spare bed and peers over at the snoring lump of his best friend across the small space and feels genuinely happy to see him, Harry also finds himself missing Spinner’s End, missing Severus…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no Snape in this chapter. There were a few canon things that I needed to squeeze in before Harry and Snape are reunited at Hogwarts.

It’s with mixed feelings that Harry blinks the sleep from his eyes and slips his glasses onto his face the next morning, allowing the familiar _Chudley Cannon_ poster-covered walls of his best friend Ron’s room to slowly take shape around him. As every other summer since the one just before his second year, when Harry has visited the Burrow, the sight fills him with joy and relief and a sense of _home_ that he’d never experienced once at Privet Drive. But now, there’s also a sense of dread, and melancholy. 

 

Even as he sits up in the spare bed and peers over at the snoring lump of his best friend across the small space and feels genuinely happy to see him, Harry finds himself missing Spinner’s End, _missing Severus_ … He sighs to himself, thinking _there’s nothing for it, best not to think about it_. 

 

He untangles his legs from the covers and drags himself out of bed, padding quietly across the floor and carefully edging the squeaky door shut behind him so as not to wake his friend, before making his way down the long, winding staircase. As he passes the twins’ bedroom door, he pauses briefly to listen for any weird noises coming from the other side, wondering what wonderous products the two mischief-makers might have come up with during the summer, but the room is eerily quiet. 

 

When he nears the bottom of the stairs, the tinkering noises of Mrs Weasley preparing breakfast reaches him and Harry’s stomach growls a little in anticipation. He takes the last few steps two at a time and jogs into the kitchen, surprised to see Hermione sitting at the table and feels the familiar joy of friendship fill him once again. 

 

”Harry!” Hermione exclaims happily and jumps to her feet, killing the distance between them swiftly to wrap her arms around him. ”It’s so great to see you!”

 

”Hermione, it’s great to see you too”, Harry says and hugs her back tightly, smiling over her shoulder at Mrs Weasley who beams back from her position at the stove. 

 

”Good morning, Harry dear”, she says gently, before turning back to her cooking. 

 

”Morning, Mrs Weasley”, Harry says pleasantly and takes the seat next to Hermione at the table. 

 

”Is Ron still asleep?” Hermione asks with a disapproving twitch of a frown. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says and smiles ruefully.

 

”Well, I suppose, we don’t exactly have any appointments or anything today so if he wants to sleep away one of the last days of his holiday that’s his prerogative…” Hermione says and rolls her eyes in exasperation, but there’s a fondness to it that makes Hary smile. ”So how have you been, Harry?”

 

”Ehm, fine, yeah…” he mumbles and looks down, avoiding her inquisitive gaze. 

 

”I was surprised to see you with Professor Snape, Harry”, Mrs Weasley says and puts an overloaded plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. ”Dumbledore didn’t tell us, you see. Only said to expect you at nightfall.”

 

”Professor Snape?” Hermione echoes in surprise. 

 

Harry gratefully tucks into his eggs and merely gives her a nod in reply, chewing with exaggerated gusto. Hermione frowns slightly. 

 

”You mean he escorted you here from Surrey last night?”

 

Harry considers just nodding again, but that would actually be lying and as much as he’d rather talk about anything other than this right now, especially with Mrs Weasley pottering around, preventing him to speak freely about it, Harry hates lying to his friends _and_ , he thinks to himself _if I lie about it now, I won’t be able to talk to Hermione about it later…_ Finally, he swallows down the last pieces of egg and looks up to meet her gaze again. 

 

”Not exactly… we… didn’t come from Surrey last night, we came from… well, his place…”

 

Hermione widens her eyes in silent shock and simply blinks at him. Even Mrs Weasley seems thrown off, judging by her delayed reaction to the spatula catching fire in her hand. Harry looks between them both nervously, wondering if he’s made a mistake telling them. He quickly thinks back to his last moments with Severus, trying to remember if the man had told him to keep their association and Occlumency lessons a secret or not, but he’s fairly sure he was never made to promise that. _Still_ , he thinks desperately. _Even if he never asked me to keep shut, he probably doesn’t want me to go around blabbing about it…_

 

”Bloody Hell”, the sleep-drunk voice of Ron Weasley cuts through the uncomfortable silence in the kitchen and all three turn to see him standing in the doorway, still in pyjamas and hair even messier than Harry’s. ”Dumbledore made you stay with Snape all summer?” 

 

Harry feels a twinge of something in his chest, but doesn’t say anything just nods. 

 

”Bloody Hell”, Ron says again and pads into the kitchen to take the seat opposite Harry at the table. ”Sucks to be you, mate…”

 

”Ron”, Mrs Weasley chastises him sternly and swats him on the arm before presenting him with a plate of bacon and eggs. 

 

Ron just shrugs and stuffs two forkfuls of eggs into his mouth, chewing happily. Hermione glares a little at him, but then turns to give Harry a sympathetic look instead, and Harry feels a stab of annoyance but forces it back down again. 

 

”It was fine”, he mumbles before shovelling more eggs into his mouth and chewing mechanically, ignoring both his friends’ weird looks. 

 

 

*

 

The next day, Harry’s sixteenth birthday, he and Ron comes down to the kitchen for breakfast and are met with the bittersweet sight of a gaunt and grim-looking Remus Lupin partly obscured from view by a huge birthday cake. 

 

”There have been another couple of Dementor attacks”, the werewolf informs everyone as Mrs Weasley passes him a large slice of cake. ”And they’ve found Igor Karkaroff’s body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it —”

 

”Yes, well”, says Mrs Weasley with a frown, glancing at Harry and the other teenagers around the table. ”Perhaps we should talk about something diff—”

 

”Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?” Bill interrupts her and the morbid conversation continues, making the birthday cake grow slightly in Harry’s mouth with each chew. 

 

Later that morning, one of Hogwarts official owls drops off their letters and book lists, and Harry’s spirit is lifted slighty again when he notices a surprise in his own letter: he’s been made Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor! 

 

”That gives you equal status with prefects!” Hermione gushes. ”You can use our special bathroom now, and everything!”

 

”Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these”, Ron says as he inspects the badge. ”Harry this is so cool, you’re my captain — if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha…”

 

”Well”, Mrs Weasley says with a sigh, looking over Ron’s book list. ”I guess we can’t put off the trip to Diagon Alley any longer now…”

 

”We could always try and squeeze it in before eleven tomorrow”, Ron mumbles sarcastically, but if she’d heard him, Mrs Weasley makes no sign of it. 

 

”We’ll have to wait until your father comes back from the Ministry though”, she adds. ”I’m not going there without him.”

 

”Mum”, Ron says and sniggers. ”D’you honesty think You-Know-Who’s going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?” 

 

”Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?” Mrs Weasley exclaims, firing up instantly. ”If you think security is such a laughing matter, then you can stay behind and I’ll get your things myself —!”

 

”No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George’s shop!” Ron protests quickly.

 

”Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you’re too immature to come with us!” Mrs Weasley more or less screeches, snatching up her clock, all nine hands of which are still pointing at _mortal peril_ , and balances it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. ”And that goes for returning to Hogwarts, as well!”

 

”Bloody hell”, Ron mumbles after she’s stormed out of the room. ”You can’t even make a joke around here anymore…”

 

 

*

 

Diagon Alley has changed. The colourful, glittering window displays hidden behind large, sombre Ministry of Magic posters depicting black-and-white photographs of convicted Death Eaters having escaped from Azkaban prison, or blown-up versions of the security advice already sent out in pamphlets during the summer. 

 

Harry glares at one of the pictures of Bellatrix Lestrange whose photograph cackles manically back at him, her black eyes glittering dangerously. He remembers her small but still spookily imposing presence in Spinner’s End… her raspy voice… _Draco should be proud…_ _You are avoiding my last question, Snape._ Harry Potter. _You could have killed him at any point in the past five years. You have not done it. Why?_

 

Harry shivers and shakes the memory away, focusing instead on the boarded-up windows Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour with a stab of unease, remembering instead all those times when he’d been free to hang around Diagon Alley on his own for a full week during the summer before his third year, and how Mr Fortescue would give him free ice creams every afternoon with a friendly wink… 

 

He’s interrupted in his toughts by a seedy-looking little wizard rattling armfuls of so-called protective amulets. 

 

”One for your little girl, Madam?” he calls after Mrs Weasley when they pass him. 

 

”If I were on duty…” Mr Weasley mutters, glaring back at the merchant. 

 

”Yes, but don’t go arresting anyone now, dear, we’re in a hurry…” Mrs Weasley says. 

 

The group decides to split up, after much hesitation from Mrs Weasley, but seeing as Harry, Ron and Hermione are the only ones in need of new robes, they head for Madam Malkin’s with Hagrid as the rest continue to Flourish and Blotts. 

 

Hagrid stays outside, _standing guard,_ while Harry, Ron and Hermione enter the shop and immediately a familiar haughty voice can be heard from the back of the shop, ”…not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping _alone_.”

 

 _Draco Malfoy._ Harry’s heart skips a beat, then picks up the pace as if to make up for it… _Draco should be proud,_ Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice slithers into Harry’s mind… and before he’s had a  chance to stop it, the image of Snape staring back at him from the doorway of his own bedroom at Spinner’s End, even more pale than usual, and his version of panicked, _”I have just made an_ Unbreakable Vow  _to help Draco Malfoy carry out a…an assignment for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…and if that should fail,_ carry it out for him _…”_

 

”Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you!” Draco’s shrill voice rings out again, bringing Harry back to the present again. 

 

Suddenly a teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blonde hair appears from behind a rack wearing a handsome set of dark green robes glittering with pins around the hem and edges of the sleeves. He strides over to the full-length mirror to examine his own reflection critically; then suddenly his gaze flits up and he catches sight of Harry, Ron and Hermoine reflected over his shoulder and he narrows his grey eyes at them.

 

”If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother”, Draco says loudly. ”A Mudblood just walked in.”

 

”I don’t think there’s any need for that kind of language!” Madam Malkin says, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack as well, a tape measure trailing behind her. ”And I don’t want wands drawn in my shop, either!”

 

She glares pointedly at Harry who blinks, and then looks down, realising that both he and Ron had drawn their wands instinctively at the Slytherin boy’s words. 

 

”Honestly, it’s not worth it…” Hermione whispers from behind Harry. 

 

”Yeah, like you’d dare do magic out of school”, Draco sneers at them. 

 

”That’s quite enough!” Madam Malkin says sharply, looking between them, then glancing over her shoulder for support. ”Madam — please —”

 

Narcissa Malfoy strolls out from behind the clotches rack. 

 

”Put those away”, she says coldly to Harry and Ron. ”If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do.”

 

”Really?” Harry challenges before being able to stop himself and takes a few steps closer to the woman, his ears ringing while snippets of memory of her conversation with Severus flashes by, how she implored and begged and _manipulated_ him into making that blasted Vow; _it’s all her fault!_

 

”Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?” he taunts, ignoring Madam Malkin and Hermoine who both try to reign him in. 

 

Narcissa only smiles unpleasantly at him, ”I see that being Dumbledore’s favourite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect you.”

 

Harry looks around him mockingly, ”Wow, look at that… He’s not here now, why not have a go then? They might be able to arrange a double cell in Azkaban for you and your loser of a husband!”

 

”Don’t you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!” Draco snarls and makes an angry movement towards him, but stumbles over his overlong robe, and Harry’s lips twitch as Ron laughs loudly next to him. 

 

”It’s alright, Draco”, Narcissa says, restraining him with her thin white fingers upon his shoulder. ”I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius.”

 

”Harry, no!” Hermione gasps and grabs his wand arm when he automatically raises it further. ”You mustn’t… you’ll be in such trouble…”

 

Madam Malkin who had dithered uncertainly on the spot during this exchange suddenly decides to act as though nothing was happening, probably in the hopes that nothing will, and bends towards Draco, ”I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just —”

 

”Ouch!” Draco bellows and snatches his arm away from her and cradles it protectively to his chest. ”Watch where you’re putting your pins, woman! Mother — I don’t think I want these anymore —”

 

He pulls the robes over his head and throws them on the floor at Madam Malkin’s feet. 

 

”Well, _really_!” Madam Malkin says finally, once the Malfoys have exited the shop, and snatches up the half-finished robes from the floor and removes the dust from them with the tip of her wand. 

 

Once they have their robes, Harry, Ron and Hermione join Hagrid outside the shop and the small group walk over to the apothecary where they meet up with the rest. Neither Harry nor Ron need to buy any ingredients since they’re no longer studying Potions, but Harry wants to enter the apothecary anyway. At Ron’s questioning look, he just shrugs. _Can’t exactly tell him I like the smell now can I_ , he thinks to himself. 

 

Finally, after having stopped by Eeylops Owl Emporium to stock up on owl treats, they make their way to Fred and George’s new joke shop Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 

 

”We really haven’t got long”, Mrs Weasley says, checking her watch. ”So we’ll just have a quick look around and then back to the car. We must be close, that’s number ninety-two… ninety-four…”

 

” _Whoa_ ”, Ron says, stopping suddenly in his tracks. 

 

Compared to the boarded-up windows and the sombre window displays of the other shops in Diagon Alley, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes sticks out like a Sfinx at the Yule Ball, it’s windows dazzling with an assortment of revolving, popping, flashing, bouncing and shrieking goods; Harry starts to feel dizzy just looking at it, and he looks over at the large poster on the right-hand side instead and quickly reads the flashing yellow letters, the only thing making it stand out next to the Ministry posters of the same style: 

 

”Why are you worrying about You-Know-Who? You _should_ be worrying about U-NO-POO — The Constipation Sensation That’s gripping the Nation!” 

 

Harry laughs. The unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach after the run-in with the Malfoys finally disappearing completely. Next to him, Mrs Weasley gasps silently, also reading the text on the poster. 

 

”They’ll be murdered in their beds”, she whispers horrified. 

 

”No they won’t!” Ron says, also laughing. ”This is brilliant!”

 

After Fred has given him the tour of the shop, Harry joins the others again and they’re all looking at the Pygme Puffs, Ginny imploring Mrs Weasley to let her get one, when Harry catches sight of Draco Malfoy again outside the window. The boy is hurrying down the street, Narcissa no longer at his side and judging by the way he’s throwing looks over his shoulder, Harry gets the distinct impression that he means to keep it that way. 

 

”Wonder where his mummy is?” he says to Ron and Hermione who follow his line of sight just as Draco disappears round the corner in the direction of Knockturn Alley. 

 

”Given her the slip by the looks of it”, Ron says. 

 

”Why, though?” Hermione adds. 

 

 _There’s no way Narcissa would let her precious Draco out of her sight willingly, so Malfoy must have made a real effort to free himself from her clutches,_ Harry thinks, just knowing that it has something to do with The Task Voldemort has given him. 

 

”Get under here, quick”, he says to Ron and Hermione, getting the Invisibility Cloak out. 

 

”Oh — I don’t know, Harry”, Hermione whispers uncertainly, looking over at Mrs Weasley who is bending down to look at the Pygme Puffs.

 

”Come _on_!” Ron says and grabs her arm though, and she finally slips under the Cloak with them.

 

”Quick, or we’ll lose him”, Harry says and steers them in the direction of Knockturn Alley. 

 

Knockturn Alley, the side street of Diagon Alley completely devoted to the Dark Arts, seems to be completely deserted. _It would make sense,_ Harry figures. It must be a dead giveaway in these dark times to be seen buying Dark artefacts…

 

”Ouch!” he snaps as Hermione suddenly gives him a hard pinch in the arm. 

 

”Shh! Look! He’s in there…” Hermione whispers, bringing them all to a stop outside Borgin and Burke’s. 

 

Inside the gloomy shop, stocked full of sinister objects, some of Harry has personal experience when he accidentally ended up inside this very shop the first time he ever travelled by Floo. The place had really creeped him out then, and it still does.

 

And there, in the midst of cases full of skulls and old bottles, Draco Malfoy’s pale blonde head can be seen, bright as a beacon in contrast to everything else, sticking up behind a large, black cabinet — the very cabinet in which Harry had hidden to avoid Draco and his father that one time — Now, Draco stands talking with the shopkeeper Mr Borgin, his hands moving animatedly. 

 

”If only we could hear what they’re saying!” Hermione moans. 

 

”We can!” Ron says eagerly then. ”Hang on — damn — Aha! Look, Extendable Ears!” 

 

Ron unravels the long, flesh-coloured strings and begins to feed them towards the bottom of the door, then he, Harry and Hermione put their heads together and listens intently to the other ends through which Draco’s voice can be heard loud and clear, ”…you know how to fix it?”

 

”Possibly”, Borgin mutters uncomfortably. ”I’ll need to see it, though. Why don’t you bring it into the shop?”

 

”I can’t”, Draco says. ”It has to stay put. You just need to tell me how to do it.”

 

”Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be very difficult, perhaps impossible. I couldn’t guarantee anything.”

 

”No?” Draco says and Harry can tell by his tone that he’s sneering, can just picture it. ”Perhaps this will make you more confident.”

 

The blonde moves closer to Borgin and is completely blocked from their view, even when they shuffle sideways to try and keep him in sight, the large cabinet is in the way. They can see Borgin though, and he looks positively scared. Harry frowns to himself. _What on earth could Malfoy possibly have done to scare a man like Borgin?_ Granted, the man doesn’t strike you as the most courageous of wizards but then again, neither does Draco. In fact, if Harry had to describe Draco Malfoy _objectively_ , a lot of adjectives spring to mind, such as _dainty_ and _delicate_ and _stroppy…_ even _pretty,_ in an aristocratic and _not really attractive way_ , Harry amends. _More like a doll, or a puppy is pretty_ … _anyway,_ imposing _or_ scary _certainly don’t make the list._

 

”Tell anyone and there will be retribution”, Draco threatens Borgin. ”You know Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf? Well, he’s a family friend. And he’ll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you’re giving the problem your full attention.”

 

”There will be no need for —”

 

”I’ll decide that”, Draco interrupts coldly. ”Well, I’d better be off. And don’t forget to keep that _one safe_ , I’ll need it.”

 

”Perhaps you’d like to take it now?”

 

”No, of course I wouldn’t, you stupid little man! How would I look carrying that down the street? Just don’t sell it.”

 

”Of course not… Sir”, Borgin says and gives Draco a bow similar to the one Harry had seen him give Lucius that one time. 

 

”Not a word to anyone, Borgin. And that includes my mother, understand?”

 

”Naturally, naturally”, Borgin says and bows again. 

 

Draco then stalks out of the shop, looking decidedly pleased with himself and passes so close to Harry, Ron and Hermione that the Cloak flutters around their knees. 

 

”What the bloody hell was that about?” Ron whispers as he reels the Extendable Ears back in. 

 

”Dunno”, Harry mutters, thinking hard. ”He wants something mended, and he wants to reserve something else in there as well… did either of you see what he pointed at when he said ’That one’?”

 

”No, he was behind that cabinet —”

 

”You two stay here”, Hermione whispers. 

 

She slips out from under the Cloak, and before either boy has a chance to stop her, she’s waltzed right into the shop. Ron fumbles with the Extendable Ears again, nervously glancing between them and Hermione through the shop window. 

 

”Hello, horrible morning, isn’t it?” Hermione greets Borgin cheerily and starts browsing the section of the shop where Draco had been standing only moments before. ”Is this necklace for sale?” 

 

”If you’ve got one and a half thousand Galleons”, Borgin answers coldly, watching her with narowed eyes. 

 

”Oh — er — no, I haven’t got quite that much”, Hermione mumbles. ”What about this lovely — um — skull?”

 

”Sixteen Galleons.”

 

”So it is for sale then? It isn’t being… kept for anyone?”

 

Harry mentally groans, and looking over at Borgin who is now squinting so much his eyes are reduced to tiny slits, he can tell the man is onto Hermione by this point. Hermione seems to have come to the same conclusion, because she suddenly changes her tactic and, throwing caution to the wind, ’comes clean’ with him and says, ”That boy that was just in here, Draco Malfoy, he’s — er — a friend, of mine, and I wanted to get him something for his birthday, you see… but, um, if he’s already reserved something, you know, I don’t want to get him the same thing…”

 

”Out”, Borgin growls. ”Get out!”

 

Hermione hurriedly scurries out of the shop again, Borgin quick on her heels. As soon as she’s over the threshold he slams the door behind her and flips the Open/Closed-sign. 

 

Hermione and Ron bicker with each other the whole way back to Fred and George’s shop, but Harry barely notices a word they say, too pre-occupied with the scene they’d just witnessed, the image of Draco leaving Borgin and Burke’s with that pleased look on his face taunting him for the rest of the afternoon. 

 

 

*

 

 

Harry, Ron and Hermione don’t get another moment to themselves until they’re boarding the Hogwarts Express and Hermione finds them an empty compartment, and for the first time she and Ron demand to know all about Harry’s stay at their least favourite professor’s place. Harry decides to give them the short version of events, oddly protective of his experiences sharing Severus’ living quarters and getting to know the man behind the Potions Master, but also because he’s eager to get back to the topic of Draco Malfoy and his mysterious shopping spree. 

 

Hermione and Ron are less than eager though, waving away Harry’s worries even after he’s told them about Narcissa and Bellatrix Lestrange’s visit at Spinner’s End. He doesn’t tell them about the Unbreakable Vow though, _not yet. I’ll do it later, when there’s time_ , he thinks and digs out the Invisibility Cloak from his trunk.

 

”Now what are you doing?” Ron says with an air of exasperation.

 

”Malfoy’s up to something”, Harry says by ways of explanation and drapes the Cloak over his shoulders, catching his two best friends share a look. ”Are you coming?” 

 

”We can’t, Harry”, Hermione says and doesn’t seem all that bothered about it. ”We’ve got to go to the Prefect’s carriage in a minute and after that we have to patrol the corridors…”

 

”Right”, Harry says with a huff. ”I’ll go by myself.”

 

”Harry…” Hermione calls out, but he ignores her and slips the Cloak over his head. 

 

He’s just about the slide the door to the compartment open, when someone else beats him to it and he’s looking down at a breathless third-year girl who stares right through him at Ron and Hermione, ”I’m supposed to deliver one of these to Harry P-Potter!”

 

She gestures vaguely with a scroll of parchment. 

 

”Thanks, I’ll give it to him”, Hermione says immediately and takes it from her. 

 

The girl looks disappointed for a moment, but then nods and leaves again. Harry pulls the Cloak off again and takes the scroll from Hermione and unrolls it. 

 

”Well, what is it?” Ron says. 

 

”An invitation…” Harry mumbles, then reads the short message out loud for his friends to hear, ” _’Harry, I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C. Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn.’_ ”

 

”Professor Slughorn, who’s that?” Ron says. 

 

”Probably the new DADA teacher…” Harry says. "But why is he inviting me to lunch?"

 

”Well, you have to accept”, Hermione says. ”He’s a professor. It would be rude not to at least show up.”

 

Harry sighs to himself, and then regretfully stows the Cloak back into his pocket again before making his way to compartment C where he discovers a few more students already eating lunch with the plump professor who jumps up when he sees Harry, his great velvet-covered belly seemingly filling up the remaining space in the compartment as he does, and welcomes Harry enthusiastically. Harry smiles awkwardly and shakes the man’s hand, before being ushered into the compartment. 

 

He’s surprised to find Ginny sitting in the seat closest to the window. She gives him a wry grimace when he gives her a questioning look and he chuckles a little, already feeling a bit better about the whole thing. 

 

In the hour that follows, Slughorn makes the round, introducing everyone and asking them each questions about some relative or other famous for something, and Harry has his suspicions about the lunch confirmed… He’s only surprised that Draco isn’t amongst the invitees, knowing how upstanding the Malfoys are in the wizarding world… _Except not anymore_ , he thinks. _Not since Lucius was sent to Azkaban in the beginning of the summer_ … 

 

The thought of the Malfoys brings back the memories of Draco in Borgin and Burke’s Harry finds himself zoning out until he hears his own name spoken in Slughorn’s booming voice, ”Harry Potter! _Where_ to begin? The _Chosen One_ they are calling you now!” 

 

Harry blinks, trying to focus on what the professor is saying, ”Er… Right…”

 

Belby, McLaggen and Zabini are all staring at him and he squirms in his seat. 

 

”Of course”, Slughorn continues, watching Harry closely. ”There have been rumours for years… I remember when — well — after that _terrible_ night — Lily — James — and you survived — and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary —”

 

Zabini gives a tiny little cough, clearly meant to indicate scepticism. Harry glares at him, but says nothing. The afternoon wears on with more of Slughorn’s anecdotes about illustrious witches and wizards that he’s taught in his day, all of whom had been delighted to belong to what he called ”The Slug Club” apparently. 

 

Harry can’t wait to leave, but it isn’t until the the sun starts to set that Slughorn looks around, blinking in the twilight, realising for the first time how late it’s become that he dismisses them all. Harry is first to leave the compartment and before anyone can see, he pulls out the Invisibility Cloak and slips it on. He steps back and waits for Zabini to appear, then follows him to the other end of the Hogwarts Express intent on slipping unnoticed into the Slytherins’ carriage behind the other boy. 

 

But even though he keeps as close to Zabini as he can get without accidentally touching the other boy, he’s still not able to slip inside quickly enough before Zabini is sliding the door shut again. Harry sticks his foot in the door to prevent it from closing. 

 

”What’s wrong with this thing?” Zabini growls and repeatedly smashes the door into Harry’s foot until Harry grabs the door and wrenches it open with such force that it knocks Zabini off-balance and he falls into Goyle’s lap. 

 

Harry quickly slips inside the compartment and stepping on Zabini’s temporarily empty seat he hoists himself up onto the luggage rack above the Slytherins. For a terrifying moment Harry’s sure that Draco has caught a brief glimpse of his trainer as it peeked out from underneath the Cloak and he holds his breath, waiting to see what the other boy will do. But Draco looks away again, focusing instead on Goyle throwing Zabini off his lap and slamming the door shut. 

 

Malfoy snorts a little at Zabini’s ruffled appearance and stretches out on his seat again, his head nestled in the lap of Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl who usually hangs around Malfoy and his goons at school. Harry isn’t sure if the two are an item, but judging by the way the girl combs her fingers through Draco’s blonde strands, they’re definitely intimiate to some degree. 

 

Harry imagines what it must feel like to run your hands through that hair… Not that he’d want to… As soft as it looks, he’d never want to have to get that close to the Malfoy boy to find out… 

 

For a moment, an unwanted image of greasy, black hair invades Harry’s mind instead and something in his belly sort of flip-flops at the idea of it _slipping over his fingertips_ ; he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to _focus_ …

 

”So, Zabini”, Draco says. ”What did the new professor want?”

 

”Just trying to make up to well-connected people”, the other boy said, still readjusting his hair to make it look impeccable again. ”Not that he managed to find many…”

 

”Who else had he invited?” Malfoy demands. 

 

”McLaggen from Gryffindor”, Zabini starts to list the invitees. ”Someone else called Belby from Ravenclaw, and then Longbottom, Potter and that Weasley girl.”

 

”He invited _Longbottom_!” Malfoy exclaims, slapping Parkinson’s hand away and sitting up again. 

 

”Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there”, Zabini mutters. 

 

”Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at the _Chosen One_ ”, Malfoy sneers. ”But what so special about the Weasley girl?”

 

”A lot of boys like her”, Parkinson says in a feigned bored tone, pretending to inspect her nails. ”Blaise even thinks she’s pretty, don’t you?”

 

”I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like”, Zabini snaps coldly and Parkinson seems pleased with the answer. 

 

Malfoy mutters something to himself, but lies back down and lets Parkinson continue to pet his hair. 

 

”Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste”, he says after a moment. ”Maybe he’s going a bit senile… Shame. My father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favourite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or —”

 

”I wouldn’t bank on an invitation”, Zabini interrupts. ”He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived, they used to be old friends apparently, but when he heard he’d been arrested at the Ministry he didn’t look at all happy. And Nott didn’t get an invite, did he? Guess Slughorn isn’t too fond of Death Eaters…”

 

Malfoy forces out a humourless laugh, ”Well, who cares what he likes? What is he, when it comes down to it? Just a stupid teacher… I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, so what’s it matter to me if some fat has-been likes me or not?”

 

Crouched in the luggage rack under his Invisibility Cloak, Harry’s heart begins to race… _Draco not coming back to Hogwarts next year?_

 

”I might have — er — moved on to bigger and better things”, Malfoy explains cryptically. 

 

Harry glances at Crabbe and Goyle to find them gawping in surprise. _So apparently whatever is going on with Malfoy, he hasn’t confided in his closest friends,_ Harry realises. 

 

”I can see Hogwarts”, Draco says after a while and they all start to pull their school robes on and gathers their things. 

 

Harry is too busy staring at Draco to notice Goyle reaching for his trunk next to Harry on the rack, and it hits Harry hard in the head as he swings it down; Harry lets out a gasp of pain, and immediately Draco’s gaze snaps up from his robes to the luggage rack, roughly where Harry is, and he’s frowning in thought. 

 

 _Shit,_ Harry thinks, holding his breath. It’s not like he’s scared of Malfoy, but he rather avoid being caught hiding under his Invisibility Cloak by a group of Slyherins, if he can. 

 

To his relief, Draco seems to decide he’d imagined the sound because he continues to buckle his robe like nothing has happened. Suddenly the train comes to a jerky stop and the Slytherins filter out of the compartment, except for Draco who seems to stall.

 

”You go on”, he tells Parkinson when she waits for him by the door. ”I just want to check something…”

 

After the girl has left, Draco pulls down the blinds over the door, so that no-one will be able to peer in from the corridor outside. He then opens his trunk again and bends down over it. Harry feels his heart start to race again, and his mind starts whirring with possibilities of what Draco could possibly want to hide from his girl girlfriend…

 

_”Petrificus Totalus!”_


	7. Hogwarts sweet Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a sinking feeling he listens to the footsteps and voices of the last few people leaving the train fade into the evening air and then all is deadly quiet. Harry has never hated Malfoy more than he does now. Every cell in his body is thrumming with rage and loathing. And a small part of him wishes that Severus would have been there and would have seen his precious Draco kick him, so he would know what the spoiled brat is really like… but he’d probably find some way to excuse it like he always does, Harry thinks bitterly.

_Well shit_ , Harry thinks to himself as some of the blood spurting from his broken nose flows back into his sinuses and some flows onto his face and trickles into his slack mouth, basically drowning him from both ends and with the stunning spell on him he can’t even cough it back up. 

 

With a sinking feeling he listens to the footsteps and voices of the last few people leaving the train fade into the evening air and then all is deadly quiet. Harry has never hated Malfoy more than he does now. Every cell in his body is thrumming with rage and loathing. And a small part of him wishes that Severus would have been there and would have seen his _precious Draco_ kick him, _so he would know what the spoiled brat is really like… but he’d probably find some way to excuse it like he always does_ , Harry thinks bitterly.

 

He imagines Malfoy rejoining his goons and bragging about literally kicking Harry’s face in before making sure no-one will find him before the Hogwarts Express pulls back into platform 9 3/4 in London, if they even find him then… He tries to remember how long a stunning spell lasts unless someone breaks it, hoping fervently that it isn’t permanent… _I’ll bloody starve to death before anyone notices me under this cloak_ , he thinks and damns his own reckless curiosity for getting him into yet another mess. And this time neither Ron nor Hermione is here to get him out of it… 

 

 _Where are they?_ he thinks. _Surely they must have noticed that I’m not in any of the carriages, so why aren’t they looking for me?_

 

Suddenly the train lurches and causes Harry to roll onto his side, then the whole floor starts vibrating again as the engine roars back to life. This is it, Harry thinks as he glares at the dusty underside of the seats in front of his face. _By the time Ron and Hermoine takes their seats in the Great Hall and realise I’m not there, I’ll be on my way back to London again and there won’t be anything they can do to help me…_

 

But just as that depressing thought has flared up, the Cloak is suddenly pulled off him and there’s a flash of red light; Harry’s body relaxes out of the stunning spell and he is able to push himself to sitting. 

 

”Wotcher Harry!”

 

”T-Tonks? What…”

 

”We’d better get you out of here, quickly”, the young witch interrupts and offers him a hand up. 

 

The Hogwarts Express has started moving again, but Tonks doesn’t seem too bothered. She jerks her head towards the door and Harry hurries to follow her, merely hesitating for a moment as she pulls the door open and jumps out onto the platform. Harry jumps right after her, the ground seemingly sliding out from underneath his feet as he lands and he staggers slightly. Tonks arm flies out to catch him, but he manages to stay on his feet and straightens up just in time to see the scarlet steam engine disappear around the bend. 

 

Tonks hands him the Cloak and peers curiously at his throbbing face, only mildly soothed by the cold night air and for a moment Harry feels embarrassed to have been discovered in such a weak and ridiculous position, and then he feels angry again. 

 

”Who did it?” Tonks asks tonelessly, nodding towards Harry’s nose. 

 

”Draco Malfoy”, he more or less spits out.

 

The cold, bitter urge for revenge is already coiling in his belly and almost as an afterthought he remembers to thank Tonks for her help. She merely shrugs though, not a trace of her usual smile or twinkly eyes. Actually, now that Harry is looking more closely, she seems a lot less colourful than usual. Her hair, normally a vibrant shade of pink or purple, is now a mousy brown. 

 

”I can fix your nose for you”, she offers without looking him directly in the eye. ”Stand still…”

 

Harry had actually intended to go see Madam Pomfrey up at the castle, but it feels rude to turn down Tonks’ offer so he nods and lets her perform the spell. At first, his nose feels hot, then very cold. But when he gingerly feels it, it does seem to be mended and the pain is completely gone. 

 

”Thanks a lot!” he says.

 

Tonks says nothing, just pockets her wand again and with another head jerk she tells him to follow as she leads the way towards the castle. They walk in silence, trudging up the dark, deserted lane following the fresh carriage tracks. 

 

As the winged boars on the pillars on either side of the large gates finally come into view in the darkness, Harry is suddenly reminded of how extremely tired and hungry he is and it takes all of his will power to to keep walking the last few meters until they’re standing right at the gates. When he reaches out to open them however, he finds them to be locked. 

 

”Alohomora”, he says and flicks his wand at the lock, but nothing happens. 

 

”That won’t work on these. Dumbledore bewitched them himself…”

 

Harry gives Tonks a sideway glance, feeling a stab of annoyance at her new, gloomy attitude and is just about to suggest he camp out her under his Cloak for the rest of the night, when he’s distracted by the glow of a distant lantern that is bobbing towards them in darkness. 

 

It’s not until the lantern is close enough to highlight the gates themselves that Harry can make out the sharp features of the person carrying it, and the very sight makes Harry’s insides flutter to life. 

 

”Well, well, well…” sneers Professor Snape and taps the padlock with his wand once and immediately the gates creak open. ”Nice of you to turn up, Potter. Although you have evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from your appearance.”

 

”I couldn’t change, I didn’t have my —”

 

”There’s no need to wait, Nymphadora”, Snape says, completely ignoring Harry. ”Potter is quite safe in my hands.”

 

Harry huffs indignantly to himself, but says nothing. He realises that Snape can’t just treat him nicely all of a sudden, not in front of Tonks. But it still irks him that the man won’t even look at him. Snide remarks he can take, but to be ignored like that… Harry stuffs his fists into his hoody, to reduce the temptation to reach out and… _and shake the man_ , Harry thinks. _Because he’s frustrating. That’s all_. 

 

”See you, Harry”, Tonks murmurs and without waiting for his reply, she turns around and Disapparates. 

 

Snape stands back to let Harry pass through the gates and then locks them again. He still avoids looking directly at Harry, and it’s really starting to annoy the younger man. But he says nothing. Two can play this game, he thinks surly and starts trotting after the older man as he swirls around and leads the way up to the castle. 

 

They walk in silence for several minutes. Harry’s anger growing with every step until he’s sure the other man must feel it radiating off him like heat waves. But Harry won’t be the first to speak. Not after Snape so rudely interrupted him. _He won’t_. 

 

”Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness, I think”, Snape says finally. ”And, let me see, another twenty for your Muggle attire.”

 

”But that was becau—” Harry starts to defend himself, but quickly cuts himself off. 

 

He _won’t_ be goaded. Not now. Not when he’s already so angry he’s bursting with it. If he gets into a fight with Snape now, he’ll do something he’ll regret. 

 

”You know”, Snape says in his most deceptively jovial tone of voice, as if they’re simply discussing the weather or something. ”I don’t believe any house has ever been in negative figures this early in the term — we haven’t even started pudding. You might have set a record, Potter.”

 

The fury and hatred that was already bubbling inside Harry after his run-in with Malfoy now blazes white-hot and he shoots the Potion Master a furious glare. 

 

”Harry! You promised!” he hisses. 

 

That seems to throw Snape off momentarily and he glances back at Harry, a startled look on his face and maybe a hint of regret, if Harry squints, but it’s gone again just as soon as it flared up and the man looks away with a contemptuous sniff. 

 

”I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, and with no flying car available to create a dramatic effect you thought that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast with blood all over your face would suffice?” 

 

”Enough already”, Harry barks out. ”I didn’t stun and kick myself in the face, did I.”

 

Snape seems to peer down at him through the corner of his eye, as if considering asking him. _As if he bloody well cares,_ Harry thinks bitterly and feels a stab of pain in his chest at the thought. Because he thought Snape actually _did_ care, in his own way. But now… Now he’s not so sure anymore. 

 

Snape abruptly slows his pace just as they reach the castle steps and Harry stumbles to a stop as well.

 

”Are you alright?”

 

”W-What?” Harry stammers. 

 

Snape gestures towards his nose with an impatient huff. Harry’s hand automatically flies up to feel it, as if making sure it’s still there and still mended. He nods quickly, and Snape gives him one nod back before striding up the stone steps towards the big oak doors of the castle, his robes billowing dramatically behind him. Harry releases a small breath that he’d instinctively held in, the butterflies back in his belly again. 

 

”Is there any point in me asking…” Snape murmurs after a moment. 

 

”No”, Harry mutters. ”You already know who did it. And you don’t care, do you. So… Just… Whatever.”

 

”Eloquent as ever”, Snape mutters.

 

Harry hurriedly follows Snape up the stairs and into the Entrance Hall, where he is immediately hit with a wave of chatter and laughter of all the other students already in the Great Hall. For a moment Harry considers putting the Cloak back on so that he can sneak unnoticed into the Hall and take his seat at the Gryffindor table. 

 

As though having read his mind, Snape says, ”No Cloak. You can walk in so that everyone sees you.”

 

Harry gives him an incredulous look, but Snape merely raises an eyebrow at him. 

 

”I _told_ you—”

 

”Yes, and as you also told me, apparently, _I don’t care_ ”, Snape says. 

 

For one brief second, Harry searches Snape’s face for any sign of emotion, like _hurt_ or… But he’s immediately distracted when Snape gives him an impatient glare and grabs him by the scruff of his neck and propels him around and then pushes him through the open doors of the Great Hall. 

 

Harry stumbles under the weight of his push, but as every eye in the Great Hall turns to look at him, something that would normally make Harry’s face heat up and his skin crawl, all Harry can really focus on is the burning chill on his neck where Severus hand is no longer touching him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Snape is back!


	8. Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like Harry had worried during his two days at the Burrow, whatever made Snape treat him decently while he stayed with him at his house seemed to have gone now that they’re back at Hogwarts, he seems to be back to his old git self again. And although Harry still harbours some small ounce of hope that that is just for show, and that Snape sees him differently now after their time together at Spinner’s End, even if he can’t show it while there are other people around, that hope is slowly dying down because really… there was no-one around during their trek up to the castle, and Snape had been just as nasty as ever to Harry then.

It comes as a shock to everyone that the new Professor Slughorn isn’t there to take up the cursed position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at all, but is in fact supposed to replace Snape as Potions Master, whereas Snape is finally getting the job that was always his own first choice.

 

Harry’s heart seems to skip a beat when Dumbledore informs them all of this and he immediately looks over at Snape, but the man gives nothing away. As always, when he’s sitting in his seat at the staff table, the man’s face is a mask devoid of any feeling. 

 

”I thought you said Professor Slughorn was the new DADA teacher!” Hermione whispers next to him. 

 

”No, I just assumed”, Harry whispers back. ”It was the only thing that made sense. How was I supposed to know Dumbledore would let Snape teach DADA all of a sudden…”

 

”Didn’t you spend half the summer with him?” Ron hisses from across the table. ”He never said anything?” 

 

”No”, Harry mumbles and looks down at his half-finished treacle tart, trying not to let his friends see the hurt on his face. ”He didn’t… He didn’t tell me a thing…”

 

”Figures”, Ron muttes. ”Greasy git… Always so bloody mysterious, isn’t he?”

 

Harry frowns to himself, but doesn’t say anything else. Even though part of him wants to agree with Ron, he just can’t bring himself to say anything mean about Severus… _Snape_ , he corrects himself. _He’s Snape. But mysterious is bloody right, even if he’s not a git anymore… Except…_

 

Except, just like Harry had worried during his two days at the Burrow, whatever made Snape treat him decently while he stayed with him at his house seemed to have gone now that they’re back at Hogwarts, he seems to be back to his old _git_ self again. And although Harry still harbours some small ounce of hope that that is just for show, and that Snape sees him differently now after their time together at Spinner’s End, even if he can’t show it while there are other people around, that hope is slowly dying down because really… there was no-one around during their trek up to the castle, and Snape had been just as nasty as ever to Harry then. 

 

 _Well, almost as nasty anyway, except for that one moment, just before we went into the castle,_ Harry thinks and allows himself to wonder, for a moment, if that had really been hurt glinting in the older man’s eyes when he’d looked at Harry, startled at his outburst. 

 

 _Apparently, I don’t care_ , Snape had said. 

 

 _Are you alright_ , he’d asked just before Harry accused him of not caring, he remembers now. So he _did_ care. Harry groans to himself and pushes the plate away, the few bites of treacle tart he’s eaten has not been enough to take the edge of his hunger, but he feels slightly sick suddenly and can’t bring himself to eat another bite. 

 

He replays that moment over and over again later in his bed. He tries not to, he tries to forget all about it, because every time he remembers that glint in Snape’s eyes, he feels like an utter shit. But no matter how hard he tries to distract himself with other thoughts, that one moment keeps coming back to him and when sleep finally overpowers him, he dreams of billowing black robes and frown lines deep with disappointment and hurt. 

 

 

*

 

 

During the first few weeks of term, Harry tries to get a moment alone with the former Potions Master, now traditionally ill-fated professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, but the man proves even more elusive than Slughorn, only more subtle about it. 

 

Meanwhile, Harry’s suspicions of Malfoy grow and fester with every passing day, until the mere sight of the boy’s platinum blonde hair makes Harry clench his teeth and even though he stubbornly denies it when Hermoine tries to broach the subject carefully, Harry knows that there is more to his anger than just suspicion, although he won’t go as far as to admit, even to himself, that what he’s actually experiencing is _jealousy_ … But one thing is for sure, when he catches Severus put a discreet hand on the blonde boy’s elbow as he steer him off to the side for _a word_ , Harry’s heart starts hammering away furiously and his fingers twitch with the impulse to _break something_ …

 

Dumbledore isn’t helping either. Harry tries to talk to him about during their first meeting, but the old man just tells him to forget about the whole thing. And after Katie is cursed by the necklace, he tries to bring it up again but Dumbledore waves his hand dismissively and retrieves the Pensieve, and that’s the end of that conversation. 

 

Harry feels a surge of frustration like he hasn’t felt since Dumbledore was avoiding him last year. But he likes to think he’s matured a lot since then, enough to be able to control that frustration. At least he wants Dumbledore to think he has matured. _And Snape._ He wants Snape to realise that _he isn’t a little boy_ , but a young man. So he curls his fists and stuffs them in his robes’ pockets and clenches his teeth and counts to ten. 

 

”Harry?” Dumbledore says, peering at him from over the rim of his halfmoon glasses. ”Are you ready?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry mutters, thinking _eight, nine, ten_ … _And deep breath. Okay, I’m okay._ ”Yeah, I’m ready.”

 

 

*

 

 

”Detention, I think… Potter…” Snape says in a low voice, and although Harry tries his best not to let the jolt of triumph to mar his mutinuous glare, _something_ in his face must have given him away because Snape narrows his eyes, then adds: ”With Filch.”

 

”Fine”, Harry snaps surlishly. 

 

The professor raises his eyebrows a little. Harry quickly looks around at his friends and spots similiar expressions on their faces, Ron’s in particular seems to say _Mate, what’s wrong with you?_ and Harry feels a flush creep onto his face. Too late he realises that he must have sounded disappointed, and not by the prospect of detention in the first place, but detention _with Filch_ , which is the truth and not _that_ weird, but what _is_ weird, to his friends at least, is that Harry _hadn’t_ seemed disappointed at the prospect of detention when he’d thought it was _with Snape_ , quite the opposite even. He’d seemed almost eager, he knows. Even Snape had noticed, which is why, Harry knows, he’d added Filch as an after-thought. 

 

It is also possible that he did so because he himself is anything but eager to spend any more time than necessary with Harry, especially just the two of them. But the idea of that makes Harry’s stomach clench painfully, so he tries not to linger on it. 

 

Harry spends the full duration of his detention with Filch furiously scrubbing trophies while stewing in his anger with Snape. Finally, Filch dismisses him and Harry drops the brush with a _clunk_ against the floor and strides out of there. He walks quickly, breathing heavily, as the rage building up inside him continues to pulse and grow with every hurried step. 

 

He’s already half-way across the castle when he realises that he’s nowhere near Gryffindor tower. Looking around, mildly annoyed with himself and his impulsive nature, he finally recognises a couple of the paintings on a nearby wall and realises he’s near the stairs leading down to the dungeons. _Figures_ , he thinks and huffs at himself. 

 

He imagines Snape in his quarters, getting ready for bed… and just as suddenly as the image has popped into his head, another image slides unbidden in front of it, as he pictures Snape with Draco, _talking in hushed voices, plotting together, Snape putting his hand on Draco’s shoulder in that familiar, intimate way of his that Harry has already witnessed once_ … Suddenly the anger that has been brewing inside Harry during the night, and for the past few weeks really if he’s honest with himself, ever since Snape dumped him on the doorstep of The Burrow and Disapparated without as much as a _Goodbye_ , flares up again and Harry continues walking towards the dungeons, more determined than ever to confront the professor. 

 

It’s not until he’s stalking up and down the length of the corridor outside the Potions classroom that Harry realises he actually has no idea where Snape’s private quarters are located. He swears silently to himself, and for a brief, desperate moment he even considers just screaming the man’s name, but reigns the impulse in, since he doesn’t want the attention of every single student in Slytherin House any more than Snape would. Finally he decides to knock on the door to the Potions classroom, on the off-chance that the man is using it to work on his private potions research after school hours. _And if a student should show up I can always tell them I’m looking for Slughorn,_ Harry thinks as he bangs on the door a couple of times. 

 

He waits with bated breath, listening for any noise on the other side of the door… But everything is deadly quiet. With a sinking feeling, Harry realises that the classroom is probably empty. He tries knocking a few more times, but his heart isn’t really in it. 

 

”Fuck…” he whispers to himself. 

 

Then suddenly, a soft groan tears through the eerie quiet of the dungeons and Harry whips his head around to see a door sliding open further down the corridor. 

 

His heart starts pounding painfully again, but this time it’s with anticipation and he quickly strides over to the now open door and the shadowed figure who has ventured outside the room. Harry quickens his strides until he’s standing right in the figure’s space and the familiar scent of sulphur, tea, parchment and wood washes over him, making him tingle _all over_ and for a brief moment he forgets what he was angry about and almost smiles. 

 

”Potter”, Snape hisses. ”What do you think you’re doing?”

 

”S-Sir”, Harry says, vaguely horrified to hear the breathless quality of his own voice as it fights its way out of his blocked throat. 

 

”Get in here, before you wake up the entire dungeon”, Snape whispers furiously. 

 

He grabs Harrt by the scruff of his neck and pulls him forcefully inside the room and Harry stumbles into a small furniture just inside the door as the man lets go of him just as forcefully. 

 

”Careful”, Snape hisses. 

 

”S-Sorry”, Harry stutters out even as his anger flares up again, because _Really? You shoved me into it, you git!_

 

Then the older man is towering over him again, and Harry finds himself struggling to breathe through the scent so familiar to him now and acutely aware of the other man’s body heat pushing against him in waves of warmth, and he shivers. 

 

”I hope you have a very good explanation for this”, Snape murmurs quietly, but with his consonants still sharpened. 

 

”I needed to see you”, Harry says, trying to match the other man’s haughty tone but merely succeeding in sounding petulant. ”I needed to talk, I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for weeks, but you’re always avoiding me!”

 

”Mr Potter”, Snape says with what is clearly forced calm. ”I have had quite a few more _pressing matters_ on my mind lately than to cater to your moody whims…”

 

Harry feels a pang of guilt, but he immediately shakes it off because he knows what Snape is doing and it’s not fair. Harry is not some spoilt little brat demanding constant attention. _Five minutes,_ that’s all it would have taken. Just a moment to reassure him that things were okay! 

 

”I’m sixteen now”, Harry blurts out, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. 

 

It’s too dark in the hallway for Harry to be able to make out the look on Snape’s face, but the other man seems to flinch back slightly and the silence that follows feels distinctly confused. _And why wouldn’t the man be confused_ , Harry thinks. _Once again, I’m blurting out whatever comes into my mind, with no logic whatsoever…_

 

”Yes, I know. Happy belated birthday”, Snape mumbles then, surprising Harry thoroughly, because _What the hell…_

 

But before Harry has a chance to comment on the out-of-place birthday wish, Snape has swiftly strode past him and disappeared from the small antechamber and into his rooms. Harry follows him cautiously, but hangs back in the doorway, respectful of the space as the man’s own and doesn’t want to presume that he’d be welcome to enter it. 

 

 _Not that that’s stopped me before,_ Harry thinks numbly as he watches the man light some candles around the small livingroom, bathing it in an orange glow and making the shadows grow and dance across the floors and ceiling. 

 

”This is not to become a habit”, Snape says and there’s a hint of warning in his voice that Harry knows not to take lightly. ”You will never come to see me here again, am I understood?” 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says and dares to edge across the threshold. 

 

When the older wizard doesn’t immediately hex him into next week, Harry lets himself relax slightly and walks over to one of the two armchairs that take up most of the room’s space and sinks down on it. Snape remains standing near the dying embers of the fireplace and watches him silently for a moment, then finally looks away again. 

 

”So. Talk.”

 

”What?” Harry says. 

 

”You needed to see me, to talk to me”, Snape quotes with a subtle sneer. ”So talk.”

 

”I… I don’t know…”

 

”What to say? That is curious, seeing as you were in such a hurry to get it off your chest you couldn’t even wait until the morning…”

 

”Where to start”, Harry corrects with a glare. ”This summer, at your house, I thought we…”

 

Snape’s eyes narrows suspiciously, and Harry lets himself trail off as he realises that he’s about to enter a mine field, so he takes a deep breath and actually thinks about what he wants to say before he says anything else. 

 

”What?” Snape encourages quietly, but there’s an edge to his voice.

 

”I thought we’d got past some of the stuff, eh, hostility, from before. I thought we’d got to know each other better, that we’d become… closer…”

 

There’s a war of emotions in the older man’s eyes, or it could be the shadows from the flickering candle light. But after a loaded moment of silence, during which Harry half-expects to be kicked out of the man’s chambers again, Snape sighs and looks away. He doesn’t speak, but some of the tension seems to drain from his shoulders and he looks less like a warrior ready to strike and more of a regular man, a tired and almost vulnerable man. 

 

”I kind of almost didn’t want to leave”, Harry admits quietly. ”Because of that, because of how we were, together…”

 

”Yes”, Snape says, attempting a sneer but not nearly succeeding. ”I _had_ noticed your reluctance.”

 

”Because I was worried that I’d show up at Hogwarts and you’d be just like your old self again, like this summer never happened…”

 

”Harry… I have a job to do, and appearances to uphold—”

 

”I know that”, Harry cuts in. ”But you don’t have to be mean to me.”

 

”I wasn’t aware that I had been”, Snape retorts and gives Harry challenging look. 

 

And now that Harry thinks about it, he realises that it’s not exactly true. Snape hasn’t been mean to him at all, if anything he’s completely ignored him which, to everyone else who don’t know how Snape treated Harry during the summer, is actually an improvement. But Harry would almost prefer it if the man would taunt and insult him like before, anything other than ignoring him. 

 

”Maybe you’re not _outright mean_ to me, but you…”

 

”I _what_?”

 

”You… You…” 

 

Harry huffs in frustration and looks down at his clenched fists, _you don’t hear me, you don’t look at me, you don’t care about me, you only care about bloody Malfoy,_ ”You act like I’m not even here, and it’s really frustrating…”

 

”I see. So the Chosen One is frustrated that there is still _someone_ whose world does not revolve around him—”

 

”No, _you git_ —!”

 

Snape’s eyes flash dangerously, and Harry quickly bites down on his lip. 

 

_One, two, three, four…_

 

”That’s not what I meant”, he bites out. 

 

_Five, six, seven, eight…_

 

”You know I don’t think like that. Why do you have to—”

 

” _What_?”

 

”Why do you have to talk like that? _I know_ you know I’m not like that!”

 

”Really. You could have fooled me, judging by the direction of this conversation—”

 

”No!” Harry exclaims. ”I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, the Prophet, the Slytherins, most of the people in this bloody school, okay? I care about what my friends think, and I care what… what _you_ think…”

 

”You care what I think”, Snape repeats slowly, like he’s sure it’s a joke or an insult but he can’t quite put his finger on _how_ yet. 

 

” _Yes_ I care what you think, because I bloody well like you, and I know you know that!” Harry practically shouts, because mature or not, at this point he’s so frustrated his skin is crawling with it. 

 

The silence that spreads out in the room is deafening. Harry’s cheek flush with heat, but the rest of him grows steadily colder. He looks down at his fists, unable to meet the other man’s eyes anymore. 

 

 _I did it_ , he thinks numbly. _I told him. I told Snape I like him._

 

 


	9. Yuletide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”… and now you’ve torn it
> 
> quite apart
> 
> I’ll thank you to give
> 
> back my heart!”

_Say something, anything_ , Harry thinks desperately in the heavy silence that follows, but Snape’s face is shuttered once again and the only thing Harry can hear is the thrumming noise of his own blood rushing through his veins. 

 

”It’s way past curfew. You need to get back to your dorm”, Snape says and swiftly swirls around and stalks out of the room. 

 

”Aren’t you going to say something—?” Harry calls after him, but the unmistakable groan of the oak door opening cuts him off and with a sigh he get up and follows the other man into the antechamber. 

 

He tries to catch the other man’s eye, but Snape is stubbornly staring ahead and when Harry takes a step closer to him he grabs him roughly by the shoulder and shoves him out the door. Then without waiting to see if Harry trips over his own feet or not, which he nearly does, Snape slams the door shut again. 

 

 _Damn it all to Hell_ , Harry thinks as he glares at the black iron knocker dangling squeakily from the middle if the large door. He’s not really disappointed, or even surprised. It would have been extraordinary if Snape _hadn’t t_ hrown him out after a declaration like that. If anything, Harry is shocked, and relieved, that he did so without yelling at him or hexing him first. 

 

With a weary sigh, Harry pulls the Invisibility Cloak out of his inner pocket and pulls it over his head before making the trek to Gryffindor tower. 

 

 

*

 

 

”Wait, wait”, Hermione interrupts him for the third time. ”What did he _actually say_? When you told him you… _you know_ …”

 

Harry lets his head drop with a loud _thump_ against his Potions book and groans, garnering an aggressive _hush_ from Madam Pince who always seem to be hovering nearby whenever Harry ventures into the library with Hermoine. 

 

”I’ve already told you, Hermione”, Harry says, well aware of the whine in his voice by this point. 

 

” _Shhh_ ”, Madam Pince wheezes again and Harry shoots her a withering glare as he mumbles an apology. 

 

”He didn’t _say_ anything”, he whispers to Hermoine who immediately opens her mouth to interrupt again, but Harry shuts her up with a wave. ”No! I am telling you! He said, _It’s way past curfew, you need to get back to your dorm_ , that’s it.”

 

”Okay, okay”, Hermione murmurs and continues to put some of her books back on their shelves. ”And _then_ what happened?”

 

” _Nothing_ ”, Harry hisses. ”He bloody threw me out and then I went back to Gryffindor tower and proceeded to _not_ sleep for the rest of the night! That was three days ago and he hasn’t said one word to me since nor looked at me or even been aware I exist, just like before!”

 

Hermione gives replaces the last of her books, then slides into the seat next to Harry and gives him her most sympathetic look. Harry sighs and cradles his head in his hands, feeling on the brink of insanity the more he thinks about it, and about Snape. 

 

”He hates me”, he mutters sullenly. ”I thought he’d changed his mind about me, but he hasn’t. He really does hate me.”

 

”He doesn’t _hate you_ , Harry”, Hermione says and Harry can hear the _eye roll_ in her tone of voice. 

 

”Oh yeah”, he says haughtily. ”Then how come he acts like I’m the plague?”

 

” _Because,_ you put him in a really awkward position that night. I mean, think about it. Not only were you in his private chambers, which I’m sure is completely against school rules and could likely get him _fired_ if anyone found out, but you also poured your heart out to him out of nowhere, and I mean, I don’t know the man that well, but I would wager that he isn’t used to those types of talks, I mean he doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve now does he? So, of course an out of the blue declaration like that would make him uncomfortable, and probably would have done even if he _wasn’t_ your professor and twenty years older than you…”

 

Harry blinks a couple of times, trying to wrap his head around everything Hermione has told him and peers up at her from behind his unruly fringe and grimaces slightly. 

 

”So you’re saying I’ve been a complete git”, he says.

 

”No, not a _complete_ one”, Hermione says and gently pats him on the arm. ”Just your usual, tactless self.”

 

”Oh great”, Harry says drily and Hermione chuckles. ”It makes sense though. What you said… Thanks Hermione…”

 

”You’re welcome”, she says and smiles. ”Now, what are you going to do about Slughorn’s Christmas party? You can’t just invite anyone. Rumour has it that Romilda Vane is intending to slip you a love potion…”

 

 _Oh god, the party_ , Harry thinks. He’d completely forgotten about that, and what with the tension between his two best friends, the pressure from Dumbledore to get that memory from Slughorn and everything that has been going on with Snape, and Malfoy, Harry isn’t exactly in the _party mood._

 

”Oh come on”, Hermione says bracingly as if reading his mind. ”I think a party might do us both some good, get our minds off everything else for an evening, it might be just what we need, you know?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry mumbles doubtfully. 

 

”You just have to make sure you ask someone who has your best interest at heart and isn’t going to try and slip you illegal drugs and take advantage of you.”

 

”Great”, Harry says. ”Thanks for that visual.”

 

”Well, it’s true.”

 

”Think I could ask Snape?” Harry with a sarcastic smile, to which Hermione only rolls her eyes. ”Fine. I’ll ask a friend. Someone cool…”

 

 

*

 

When Harry walks into the Entrance Hall to meet up with Luna on the evening of the Christmas party, an unusual number of very resentful-looking girls seem to have gathered there only to glare daggers at him. Harry tries to ignore them and focuses instead on his date for the evening, feeling a small thrill at the silvery, spangled vision that is Luna Lovegood in dress robes. Ignoring a few titters and giggles from the other girls, Harry gives Luna a friendly smile and offers her his arm. She smiles back in that dreamy way of hers and links her arm with his. 

 

”Ready?” 

 

”Oh, yes”, Luna says. 

 

As they make their way towards Slughorn’s office and away from the staring and gossping of the other students, Harry tries to strike up a friendly conversation with Luna about the rumour of a vampire being invited to the party, only to be reminded immediately that he isn’t talking to just anyone when Luna asks if the vampire in question could be the Minister of Magic himself, Rufus Scrimgeour. 

 

”He’s a vampire”, she says matter-of-factly and Harry feels slightly disconcerted, wondering how he’s supposed to get through the evening without too much embarrassment with Luna on his arm. ”Father wrote a very long article about it when Scrimgeour took over from Cornelius Fudge, you know?”

 

Harry is saved from having to come up with a reply, because just then they arrive at Slughorn’s office and the sound of laughter and music can be heard filtered through the door. 

 

”Harry, m’boy!” a betasselled Slugorn booms as soon as Harry and Luna have squeezed through the door and past the nearest guests. ”Come in, come in! There are so many people I would like to introduce you to!”

 

Harry instinctively seizes Luna’s hand and drags her along with him when Slughorn grabs him by the arm and starts steering him through the throng of people at the party, introducing him to various important people, all former students of Slughorn, and Harry recognises quite a few of them from The Shelf. 

 

After a moment, Harry makes an excuse and slips away from the older wizard, having caught sight of a familiar mane of frizzy brown hair in the crowd, he drags Luna with him to intercept his best friend. 

 

”Hermione!”

 

”Oh, Harry, there you are! Hi Luna!”

 

Hermione smiles at them both, but her eyes keep flitting about the place nervously, as if searching for something or someone. Harry frowns, noticing the way she wrings her hands in that worried way of hers that he’s only ever seen in the days leading up to a test. 

 

”What’s wrong?” He asks her. 

 

”Oh I’ve just escaped — I mean, left — Cormac… under the mistletoe…” she explains. 

 

Harry quietly thinks it serves her right for asking the smug boy to come to the party in the first place, but bites his tongue. Hermione leads them both towards a corner of the room, where she’ll have a better vantage point and to Harry’s horror they bump into Professor Trelawny who is standing on her own, nursing a glass of cooking sherry. 

 

”Hello”, Luna greets the professor politely. 

 

The woman turns her insect-like eyes on the three of them and blinks in surprise before greeting Luna back. As the two witches start talking about Divination, Harry turns to Hermione but the girl must have spotted McLaggen because she ducks down and slips out of sight almost as quickly as if she would have Disapparated, and the next moment McLaggen sidles up to Harry with his usual air of smugness. 

 

”Heya Harry”, he greets off-handedly. ”Seen Hermoine?”

 

”No, sorry”, Harry mutters and quickly turns away, forgetting for a second whom Luna is talking to until the tipsy Divination professor pins him down with her enlarged eyes and exclaims his name as though she’s about to predict his death — and Harry should know, she’s predicted his death often enough that he can recognise it by now — and sure enough, Trelawney immediately starts telling him that what with him being the Chosen One, he should definitely take up Divination again. 

 

”Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject’s most important!” Slughorn says as he appears from out of nowhere and wraps an enthusiastic arm around Harry’s shoulders, hugging him a little closer than Harry is comfortable with, as he continues to gush about Harry’s natural potions brewing abilities. ”Instinctive, you know — just like his mother! I’m telling you, Sybill, I have only ever taught a handful of students with such talents — why, even Severus — ”

 

Harry’s heart seems to skip a beat, then hurries to catch up again, as Slughorn throws out his other arm and scoops up none other than Severus Snape himself, seemingly out of thin air. 

 

”Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!” Slughorn exclaims with a delighted hiccough and hugs the man close to his side. ”I was just talking about Harry’s exceptional potion-making!”

 

For a brief moment, Harry’s and Snape’s eyes lock across the expanse of Slughorn’s bulging, velvet-clad chest. Snape’s eyes narrow suspiciously, then flicks away again, and he slithers out of the other man’s grip. 

 

”Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!”

 

”Funny”, Snape murmurs. ”I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter much of anything…”

 

”Well, then, it’s natural ability!” Slughorn says. ”Tell me, Harry, what other subjects are you taking?”

 

Harry starts rattling off his subjects, but is cut off by Snape who says, ”In short, all the subjects required for an Auror.”

 

”Yeah, so? That’s what I want to be”, Harry says defiantly. 

 

”I don’t think you should become an Auror, Harry”, Luna speaks up unexpectedly and everyone turns to look at her. ”The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They’re working from within to bring down the Ministry of Magic using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease.”

 

There is a beat of shocked silence, and then Harry half-chokes on his mead and splutters in surprised delight; It’s been worth bringing Luna to the party just for this moment. Her dreamy eyes and determined tone of voice, and the look on the professors’ faces, Snape’s in particular. Harry coughs and then, feeling the tension and worry of the past few weeks lift considerably, he continues to laugh freely and the absurdity of the scene in front of him. Snape’s eyes flicker from Luna to him, an unreadable expression in his stoic face, and Harry sobers up slightly, but continues to grin. 

 

The moment is broken when a maniacally happy Argus Filch comes dragging a struggling Draco Malfoy by the ear, ”Professor Slughorn! I found this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor, and he claims to have been invited to your party!”

 

Malfoy manages to pull himself free of Filch’s grip and glares daggers at the old man as he rubs his ear furiously.

 

”Alright, I wasn’t invited! I was gatecrashing! Happy?”

 

”No, I’m not!” Filch crows, completely contradicting the look of glee on his face. ”You are in trouble, young man! Didn’t the Headmaster say that any night-time prowling is completely prohibited unless you’re given permission? Eh?”

 

”That’s alright, Argus”, Slughorn says and waves his hand. ”It’s Christmas after all. The boy can stay.”

 

The look of abject disappointment on Filch’s face was to be expected, Harry thought but, glancing over at Malfoy, not so expected on the young Slytherin if he was indeed trying to gatecrash the party, unless of course he wasn’t doing anything of the sort… but instead taking the opportunity, now that most of the professors and a lot of the students were busy having a good time, to carry out whatever it was he was up to… 

 

Harry glances over at Snape to see his reaction, and finds the man staring at Malfoy with a look of anger and… _something else, worry maybe?_

 

Harry feels a twinge of unease, and irritation. 

 

Filch stomps off, muttering darkly to himself, and Malfoy quickly composes himself and plasters on an insincere smile as he turns to thank Slughorn for his generosity. Snape’s face slips back into its unreadable, stoic mask. But he doesn’t take his eyes off Malfoy, and for some reason it makes Harry want to lob his goblet against the wall, or against Snape… anything to get the man _to look away, to look at Harry instead_ … But he takes a deep breath and composes himself. 

 

After all, it wouldn’t do to get thrown out of the party now that Malfoy has been invited to stay and Harry has an opportunity to study the boy closer. 

 

”It’s nothing, nothing…” Slughorn says and waves a hand dismissively. ”I did know your grandfather after all.”

 

”He always spoke very highly of you, Sir”, Draco says quickly, but although the flattery rolls smoothly off his tongue, there’s a tension in the boy’s face and for the first time Harry realises that Malfoy looks quite ill, with dark circles under his eyes and an almost greyish tinge to his pale skin. 

 

”I’d like a word with you, Draco”, Snape says suddenly. 

 

Harry whips his head around to stare at him, but just like before Snape only has eyes for Malfoy. 

 

”Now, now, Severus, it’s Christmas, don’t be too hard—” Slughorn starts to protest, but Snape shuts him up with a quick glare. 

 

”I’m his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be”, he says curtly. ”Follow me, Draco.”

 

Malfoy does as he’s told, looking extremely resentful. Harry feels his heartbeat quicken as he watches them leave, then making a split-second decision he gives Luna a quick excuse and hurries after them.

 

As soon as he was out of Slughorn’s office, Harry pulls out his Invisibility Cloak and pulls it on, then, running down the deserted corridor, grateful that his footsteps are masked by the music coming form the party, Harry presses his ear to every door lining the corridor, listening avidly for any hint of voices before dashing on to the next one. A small part of him thinks Snape might just have escorted Malfoy back to the Slytherin dorms, but he keeps checking each and every door he passes just in case. 

 

With a jolt of excitement, he hears Snape’s voice, muffled but distinct in its silky yet sharp tone, coming from the other side of the last door in the corridor. Harry crouches down and looks through the keyhole. He can’t make anything out in the gloom, but he can definitely hear Snape and Malfoy talking in hushed voices. 

 

”…cannot afford mistakes, Draco. Because if you are expelled —”

 

”I didn’t have anything to do with it, alright!”

 

”I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected to have a hand in it.”

 

”Who suspects me?” Malfoy demands angrily. ”For the last time, I didn’t do it. Okay? That Bell girl must have had an enemy no-one knows about — don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re doing, I’m not stupid, but it won’t work — I can stop you!”

 

There’s a loaded pause, and Harry holds his breath. 

 

”Ah”, Snape says quietly. ”I see your aunt has been teaching you Occlumency. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco—?”

 

”I’m not trying to conceal anything from _him_! I just don’t want _you_ butting in!”

 

Harry presses his ear harder against the keyhole, as Snape lowers his voice even further until its barely above a whisper. Harry can picture him standing close to Malfoy, towering over him, _maybe even holding him in place with a hand fisted in the front of his robes… or gently clamped on top of his shoulder_ … Harry shivers, and forces himself to focus. 

 

”Listen to me, Draco… I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother that I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow…”

 

”I didn’t ask you to, did I”, Malfoy snaps. ”Besides, I don’t need protection! I’ve got a plan, and it is going to work, it’s just taking a little longer than I thought it would that’s all…”

 

”What is your plan?”

 

”It’s none of your business!”

 

”I can assist you—!”

 

”I have all the assistance I need. I’m not alone.”

 

”You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering around castle after curfew, without backup or lookouts, _getting caught_ —!”

 

”I would have had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn’t put them in detention!” Malfoy exclaims, and there’s a choked quality to his voice, like he’s fighting a sob. 

 

”Keep you voice down!” Snape hisses. 

 

There’s a moment’s silence, and then Harry hears a soft sniffle followed by a sigh and the rustle of fabric. Blood running cold in his veins, Harry imagines Snape’s arms circling Malfoy’s lithe frame and gathering him up, holding him against his chest… Harry remembers what those arms felt like wrapped around his own body, the rough texture of his robes against Harry’s cheek, the thumping of his heartbeat underneath…  

 

Snape sighs again, and when he speaks next his voice isn’t nearly as cold, ”I understand, Draco. You’re quite right to be overwhelmed, with your father in Azkaban and now this… but that is why I am offering to help you, don’t you see that?”

 

”I can do it”, Malfoy mumbles in a small voice, sounding all of eleven again. ”I don’t need help.”

 

Harry barely has a second’s warning; suddenly he hears Malfoy’s approaching footsteps on the other side of the door, and he just has time to fling himself out of the way before the door flies open and the other boy strides out of the room and disappears behind the corner. 

 

Harry glances inside the room where Snape is left standing alone in the middle of the room, like a solitary statue bathed in shadows, and for a second Harry’s chest pinches as the sight of his hunched over shoulders and he considers making himself known, just so he can walk over and offer some kind of comfort. But he thinks better of it, knowing that if Snape ever found out Harry had been eavesdropping on him, he’d be livid and then Harry would never have a chance to make things right between them again. 

 

 

*

 

 

”Snape was offering to help him? He was definitely _offering to help him_?” Ron asks Harry for the umpteenth time since they started peeling sprouts at the kitchen sink of The Burrow a few days later and Harry has to stomp down on a very strong impulse to throw the sprout he's currently peeling at the other boy’s head, and Ron must have sensed his irritation because he quickly raised both hands. ”I’m only checking!”

 

”Yes, Snape was offering to help him!” Harry says in exasperation. 

 

He doesn’t get what the big deal is all of a sudden, since he’s already told both Ron and Hermoine about Narcissa Malfoy’s and Bellatrix Lestrange’s visit at Spinner’s End, so none of what he’d overheard between Snape and Malfoy had really been news, but for some reason Ron seems to take it seriously now. 

 

”But an Unbreakable Vow…” Ron says, looking almost queasy at the thought and Harry realises that that’s the news, because he never did get around to telling his friends about that. ”He can’t have… you must have misheard him… Are you sure that’s what he said?”

 

”Yeah, definitely”, Harry says. ”Why? What’s the big deal?”

 

”Well, you can’t break an Unbreakable Vow”, Ron says. 

 

Harry blinks. 

 

”Eh — Yeah, I’d kind of worked that much out myself, actually… what happens then, if you break it?”

 

”You die”, Ron says simply, and Harry is suddenly struck with a dizzy spell and has to grab the edge of the sink to steady himself. 

 

 

*

 

 

_”Oh, come and stir my_

_cauldron._

_And if you do it right_

_I’ll boil you up some hot,_

_strong love_

_To keep you warm_

_tonight…”_

 

Celestina Warbeck’s voice wafts out of the wireless and washes over Harry, but the words are meaningless to him, all he can think about is the conversation between Snape and Narcissa Malfoy, a conversation that he’s replayed in his mind a hundred times already, but never before with the knowledge of just how serious it actually was… 

 

 _Why did you have to make this stupid vow then if it_ ’ _s such a big deal_ , he’d said to Snape. 

 

He swallows past the lump in his throat, but it only keeps growing.

 

”We danced to this when we were eighteen!” Mrs Weasley says, wiping her eyes on her knitting. ”Do you remember Arthur?”

 

 

 _Who cares if Malfoy fails anyway?_ Harry had said, thinking Snape should just pretend to help Malfoy but not actually do anything about the Vow, the _Unbreakable Vow_ , because _what was the worst that could happen?_ Well, he should have known…

 

 

_What happens then, if you break it?_

 

_You die_

 

 

Harry wishes Hermoine was here, so he would have someone to talk to. Someone who got it, all of it. He can’t very well tell Ron. It’s one thing to discuss what scheme Malfoy might be up to, and whether or not Snape is trying to help him. But Harry can only imagine what his friend would do if Harry told him how he feels about Snape… 

 

Not that Harry is exactly sure himself how he feels… which is another reason he wishes Hermoine was here, because she’s his only female friend and the smartest person he knows besides Dumbledore. If anyone can help him make sense of everything he’s thinking and feeling right now, it’s her. 

 

 

_”Oh, my poor heart,_

_where has it gone?_

_It’s left me for a spell…”_

 

 

Harry glares half-heartedly at the wireless, but Celestina continues to croon:

 

 

_”… and now you’ve torn it_

_quite apart_

_I’ll thank you to give_

_back my heart!”_

 


	10. Bezoar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tells Hermoine everything that Severus and Malfoy said, word by word, and then waits with bated breath as she mulls everything over. Unlike Ron, she didn’t interrupt his story once and so far she hasn’t expressed any doubt about any of it, like the Unbreakable Vow, and Harry wonders if that’s because she doesn’t know what it is, but then decides that no, that’s unlikely. 
> 
>  
> 
> ”And you’re worried Malfoy won’t let Snape help him?” she whispers finally, throwing Harry completely for a loop. 
> 
>  
> 
> ”W-What?”

Harry and Ron meet up with Hermione outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, but it isn’t until later that evening, in the Common Room, that Harry gets the opportunity to speak with Hermione about everything that’s been whirling around inside his head ever since he overheard Severus and Malfoy. 

 

He’d been playing exploding snap with Ron for a good hour, until Lavender had showed up and attached herself to Ron in her usual fashion, and Harry had gone to join Hermione at the other end of the Common Room instead. 

 

As soon as he sat down, she tossed a bit of parchment at him and with a sinking feeling he smoothed it out and realised she’d drawn up a revision shedule for him.

 

”What?” she says sharply. 

 

”Nothing”, Harry says quickly, determined to stay in his friend’s good books. ”This is great!”

 

”It’s never too early to start revising!”

 

”Oh yeah, totally”, Harry mumbles and hopes it sounds at least somewhat sincere, and struggles to keep his face at the very least _neutral,_ if not excited. 

 

 _But really_ , he thinks as he adds up the hours Hermione has spread over the week. Did she imagine he would go without sleep this term? She obviously hadn’t taken Quidditch into account at all, but at least she’d allowed for Dumbledore’s lessons _”and/or Slughorn”_ as she’d scribbled neatly in the small window of spare time each week. 

 

”You’re worried about Quidditch, aren’t you?” Hermione says sharply. 

 

”No, no, it’s fine. I’ll… work it out… somehow…”

 

”Oh, honestly, just… _Fine_ , give it here…”

 

Hermione snatches the schedule back and starts making corrections with such swift movements Harry almost expects the quill to slash through the parchment, all the while muttering under her breath about _boys and their priorities_. 

 

”That’s a bit sexist, you know”, Harry says and recieves a stony glare in response. ”Hey, I’m just saying… a lot of girls play Quidditch too, it’s not a… boys… thing… nevermind.”

 

”Yes. _Thank you_ , Harry. I’m well aware that Hogwarts is full of _dunderheads of both genders_ who care more about the Quidditch cup than their own NEWTS results—!”

 

”Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” Harry cuts in before she can gather enough steam and holds his hands up in a show of surrender. ”Forget I said anything… Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something…”

 

”What?” Hermione says and squints suspisciously at him. 

 

”Well…” Harry says awkwardly, realising it probably won’t come as a surprise since it’s the only thing he ever seems to talk to her about nowadays. ”Se- Snape… and Malfoy.”

 

”Oh Harry…” Hermione sighs, but her face softens immediately. 

 

”No, listen, it’s not like that”, he mutters hurriedly. ”During Slughorn’s christmas party, I don’t know if you noticed, you were kind of hiding at the time, but Malfoy—”

 

”Was caught by Filch trying to gatecrash the party, professor Snape escorted him out of there and you followed them”, Hermione interrupts and gives him a pointed look, but Harry isn’t exactly sure what the look is trying to _point out_ , so he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say to that and settles for an awkward _Eh right yeah_. 

 

”Honestly Harry, you’re as discreet as a bludger sometimes”, Hermione says with an eye-roll that is just as fond as it is exasperated. 

 

”Well, never mind that”, Harry bristles. ”I followed them, under my Cloak you know, and I overheard them talking in a classroom…”

 

Harry tells Hermione everything that Severus and Malfoy said, word by word, and then waits with bated breath as she mulls everything over. Unlike Ron, she didn’t interrupt his story once and so far she hasn’t expressed any doubt about any of it, like the _Unbreakable Vow_ , and Harry wonders if that’s because she doesn’t know what it is, but then decides that _no_ , that’s unlikely. 

 

”And you’re worried Malfoy won’t let Snape help him?” she whispers finally, throwing Harry completely for a loop. 

 

”W-What?”

 

”Well, I mean, you already knew Snape had promised Draco’s mother to look out for him and help him with this _task_ whatever it is…”

 

”Well yeah but…”

 

”And I’m assuming you knew about the Unbreakable Vow, I’m assuming you overheard them make it?”

 

”Well, yes…”

 

”So you didn’t actually learn anything new when you eavesdropped on Snape and Malfoy that night”, Hermione states, more than asks, and Harry realises that _no, no he hadn’t really…_

 

So why had he felt so disturbed by the conversation? Why had he been obsessing over it the whole time he’d been at the Burrow, and why had he been so eager to talk to Hermione about it? 

 

”So you’re worried about Snape”, Hermione says, and her face softens even further.

 

”Well I mean…” Harry mumbles, then trails off because he doesn’t know what he means and part of him wishes Hermione would help him out with that too, but another part of him fervently wishes that she’ll just change the subject because he isn’t all that sure he _wants_ to know what he means anymore. 

 

”Oh Harry…” Hermione murmurs again and gives him a sad smile, then gently pats him on the arm. 

 

”What”, he mutters thickly. ”I’m not like… _you know_ … with Se- Snape or anything.”

 

”Oh honestly, Harry. It’s not like I’ll _tell_ anyone.”

 

”And even if I was, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because he only cares about bloody Malfoy anyway”, Harry has grumbled before he’s even aware of it and quickly slaps his hand over his mouth before it can betray him further. 

 

”I’m sure it’s nothing like that”, Hermione says and gives him _look_. 

 

”Well, what’s he playing at then?” Harry demands. 

 

”What are you talking about? Harry, you know exactly what he’s doing, _you were there_ when he… _you know_ … That’s all it is, and I mean, that’s… _that’s plenty_. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for professor Snape, especially if Draco won’t even accept his help or even reveal his plan to him, I can only imagine how stressful it must be…”

 

”It sounded like… like they were… I don’t know, hugging”, Harry mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat up immediately and Hermione gives him a weird look that does nothing to cool them down. 

 

”It sounded like they were _hugging_?” she repeats. 

 

”Yeah, you know…”

 

”No, Harry, I don’t know. What does a hug sound like?”

 

”Oh don’t… You know what I mean! Like they were really close, and then Malfoy started sniffling and I heard rustling, like, _robes_ , like Severus robes, and then they sounded…. even closer…”

 

Hermione is giving Harry a wide-eyed stare by the end of his tirade, and he realises how mental it all sounds, but he _doesn’t care_ because he’s _so certain_ that’s what they were doing and it shouldn’t surprise him at all really. 

 

 _When you think about it, it only makes sense,_ he thinks. 

 

Severus had hugged and comforted _him_ last summer, it only makes sense that he would do the same for Malfoy who is one of his Slytherins, but it really bothers Harry all the same. 

 

”Well, I don’t know about that”, Hermione says. ”But I’m sure it wasn’t anything… untoward…”

 

”Right”, Harry mumbles. 

 

 

*

 

 

”And so”, Slughorn says. ”I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don’t forget your protective gloves!”

 

Harry feels his newfound confidence in Potions start to steadily sink and by the time Slughorn gives him a blatant wink from the other side of the desk, it’s right back at the very bottom where Snape had left it at the end of last year. As much as Harry has come to… admire… the man since then, he’s not so twitterpated that he’s forgotten what a lousy Potions teacher he’d been. 

 

 _If only he’d been a better teacher, I might have had_ some _sort of grasp of elementary potions theory now and I wouldn’t_ be _in this mess_ , Harry thinks sourly, but he can’t even convince himself that Severus could be to blame for the current situation. 

 

As if reading his mind, Hermione pipes up from the other side of the desk, ”It’s a shame the prince won’t be able to help you with this, Harry! You have to understand the principles involved this time. No shortcuts or cheats!”

 

Harry throws her an annoyed look as he uncorks the poison he’d selected from Slughorn’s desk. 

 

”You sure the prince hasn’t got any tips?” Ron mutters with a sympathetic look. 

 

Harry doesn’t remember seeing any suggestions in that particular part of his trusted copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ but pulls it out and skims through the chapter on Antidotes anyway, keenly aware that his time as the best potions-maker in the class is finally at an end. 

 

The only thing that the Hlaf-Blood Prince has added to that entire chapter is one sentence scrawled across a long list of antidotes: _Just shove a bezoar down their throats._

 

Harry’s pulse quickens as he stares at the word… _bezoar_ … and a memory flares up; The heavy oak door to the Potions classroom slamming shut behind them, Snape storming past them all and then coming to a swirling stop at the front of the class, his glittering black eyes flashing down at them… And then he’d spoken in that deep, silky voice… _I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses, I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death…_

 

Harry remember the shiver that had run through him, and feels a ghost of it trickle over his skin now but the sensation is entirely different. At the time, Harry had thought professor Snape to be imposing and even a little creepy, which he’s now sure was Snape’s intention all along, but now… now the thought of that deep voice, and those dark eyes, has an altogether different effect on Harry. 

 

 _But there was something else_ , Harry thinks and forces himself to focus. _Antidote, bezoar,_ he thinks desperately. 

 

_Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention!_

 

And then suddenly, that _imposing, creepy, bat-like_ man was _towering over him_ and Harry had felt his heart stop for a second, he’d been sure.

 

_Mister Potter… Our new celebrity…_

 

Harry sighs in frustration and slams the Potions book shut again. _Bezoar, Bezoar_ , he thinks. 

 

_Tell me, Mister Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? You don’t know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?_

 

 _That’s it,_ Harry thinks with it a jolt. _I knew I’d heard it before._

 

_Clearly fame isn’t everything…_

 

 _No,_ Harry thinks. _What did he say about the bloody bezoar. Think, dammit, think… A bezoar is a stone taken from… somewhere…_ Harry doesn’t remember, _but it doesn’t matter,_ he realises. _What did Snape say it did, something about saving you from most poisons, wasn’t it?_

 

”Two minutes left, everyone!” Slughorn’s booming voice cuts through Harry’s thoughts. 

 

Harry looks over at the store cupboard, his pulse racing by this point. If Snape had still been teaching potions he’d never dare try it, but with Slughorn… _Oh, blast it_ , Harry thinks and hurries over and starts rummaging around desperately until he finds a small cardboard box with a faded label that reads _bezoar_ in a near unintelligble scrawl, and he quickly opens it and snatches up one of the stones inside. 

 

 _This is it,_ he thinks as he hurries back to his seat. _Moment of truth._

 

Harry isn’t sure what’s most rewarding, seeing Slughorn’s face crack up or Hermione’s fall, but one thing is certain, the prince has saved him again — _well, the prince and Snape, to be fair_ — and for the umpteenth time, Harry hugs the potions book to his chest and sends a silent _thanks_ to the Half-Blood Prince, whomever he is and whereever he might be, if he’s even still alive.


	11. Apparition lessons and poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry stares in alarm at his friend, who is now looking both pale and frantic. He wasn’t expecting this, he truly wasn’t. That Lavender was acting like a love-sick puppy, that was one thing. But if Ron is going to start calling her Lav-Lav, Harry will have to put his foot down.

As February rolls around the last patches of snow melts away leaving the ground wet and muddy under the seemingly endless cold rain whipping across the grounds from the heavy-hanging clouds that hug Hogwarts. Awful Quidditch conditions, but there is one good thing to come out of the dreary weather and that is that when it’s time for the sixth years’ first Apparition lesson, schedulled for a Saturday morning so as not to disrupt any other lessons, it’s decided that it will take place in the Great Hall as opposed to outdoors. 

 

Harry and Hermione go down together, as Ron has already left with Lavender by the time Hermoine comes down from the girls’ dormitory and Harry suspects that she’d been stalling until she was sure the two lovebirds had left, but he makes no comment, just gives her a weak smile as she finally sidles up to him and lets her climb through the portrait hole first. 

 

When they walk into the Great Hall, which looks like it might have doubled in size during the night with all the tables and benches gone from the space, the four Heads of House — McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Severus — are standing in a line at the far back of the room, next to a small and rather vacant-looking wizard whom Harry guesses is the Apparition Instructor sent by the Ministry. 

 

When the Instructor starts the introction, Harry struggles to concentrate on what he’s actually saying, his airy, droning voice almost giving Professor Binns a run for his money, and Harry finds himself zoning out and letting his gaze travel over to Severus instead. Of course, the former Potions Master is as stoic as ever, so there’s not much to interpret, yet Harry finds himself trying to anyway. 

 

”Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!” Professor McGonagall barks out suddenly, interrupting the Instructor. 

 

Every student in the hall looks round to see Malfoy taking a step back from what appeared to have been a whispered argument with Crabbe, his pale cheeks flaring up in a light blush as he scowls furiously at the floor. 

 

Harry quickly turns back to the front to gauge Snape’s reaction and catches a hint of annoyance around the man’s eyes, but he strongly suspects it’s less to do with Malfoy’s behaviour and more to do with another professor scolding _his Draco_ … Harry shakes off the thought. _Silly,_ he thinks. 

 

”I would like each of you to place yourself now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you”, the Instructor’s voice filters back into Harry’s awareness and suddenly Harry is being jostled from all sides as students around him start to scramble about. 

 

The Heads of House swiftly moves amongst the students, herding them into position and breaking up small fights here and there. 

 

”Harry, where are you going?” Hermione hisses. 

 

Harry ignores her and quickly zig-zags between a few disoriented Ravenclaws to position himself closer to the Slytherins who, as always, have decided to cluster together. Malfoy, taking advantage of the temporary upheaval to continue his argument with Crabbe, is hissing furiously, the light pink blush still evident in his face, as Harry discreetly creeps up on them. 

 

”I don’t know how much longer, all right?” Malfoy is saying, oblivious to Harry’s sudden presence behind him. ”It’s taking longer than I thought it would… And it’s none of your business what I’m doing, Crabbe, you and Goyle just do as you’re told and keep a lookout!”

 

”I tell my friends what I’m up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me”, Harry says, just loud enough for Malfoy to hear, and smirks when the blonde boy swirls around and his frantic eyes land on Harry, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand before he’s interrupted by McGonagall’s _Quiet_ as it echoes through the Hall. 

 

”Thank you”, the Instructor mutters as the ruckus immediately dies down. ”Now then…”

 

Harry glances over at Snape again, and catches his gaze for a split second before it darts away, and feels a jolt of excitement. _He was looking at me_ , he thinks and tries not to let himself feel too ecstatic over it — and failing miserably. 

 

”What’re you so cheerful about?” Ron demands as they’re all leaving the Great Hall after the lesson is over, before Lavender whisks him away again. ”Did you manage to Apparate? I should’ve known you’d be able to—!”

 

”No, no”, Harry says. ”Didn’t feel a thing. I’m not bothered about it though. I prefer flying anyway…”

 

Harry keeps a close watch on Malfoy in the weeks that follows and always has his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map on him at all times, just in case. But despite this, he never seems to catch Malfoy anywhere suspiscious. 

 

Crabbe and Goyle tend to move around the castle without the blonde a lot more than usual and sometimes they hang around deserted corridors for no apparent reason, but at those times Malfoy is nowhere to be seen. Literally. He’s impossible to find on the Map at all. Harry toys with the idea that he has somehow found a way to slip off the school grounds undetected, but he can’t for the life of him work out how. Frankly, it’s more likely that Harry just hasn’t been able to spot him amongst the hundreds of black dots on the Map. 

 

And as unusual as it is for Crabbe and Goyle to be veering away from Malfoy when the three have been inseperable since day one of first year, Harry has to admit that it’s not completely unheard of.  People, even best friends, grow apart sometimes, he knows. 

 

He glances between his own two best friends, resolutely on opposite ends of the Common Room now which has become the new norm ever since Ron and Lavender got together.

 

 

*

 

 

”Happy birthday, Ron”, Harry says as soon as he’s woken up by Dean and Seamus leaving noisily for breakfast, giggling and whispering together. 

 

He glances over at Dean’s bed, noting that it looks suspisciously unslept in, but then decides that he rather not know, and turns his focus back to Ron who is reaching blearily for the small pile of presents at the foot of his bed. 

 

”Here, have another present”, Harry adds and tosses his own package over to Ron’s bed. 

 

”Cheers”, Ron croaks thickly and tears into it, waking up considerably at the sight of the new Keeper’s gloves. ”Nice one, Harry!”

 

”No problem”, Harry says absent-mindedly as he unfolds the Marauder’s Map, muttering _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ and eagerly starts searching for Malfoy’s dot, as has become his new morning routine. ”Hey… I don’t think he’s in bed…”

 

Ron ignores him, either because he’s too busy opening his presents or because he’s getting tired of the subject of Malfoy and his whereabouts. 

 

Harry quickly scans the rest of the Slytherin dorms and Common room, then moves on to the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, but Malfoy is nowhere to be seen. Severus is sitting by himself in his study and Malfoy is nowhere near him either, and he isn’t in any of the bathrooms nor in the Hospital Wing. 

 

”Want one?” Ron says thickly, waving a box of Chocolate Cauldrons in Harry’s direction. 

 

”No thanks”, Harry mutters. ”Malfoy’s gone again!”

 

”Can’t have done”, Ron says and stuffs another Cauldron into his mouth, before finally sliding out of bed to get dressed. ”Come on, if we don’t hurry up we’ll have to Apparate on an empty stomach… might make it easier, I suppose…”

 

Ron looks thoughtfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugs and stuffs a third one into his mouth. 

 

Harry reluctantly taps the Map with his wand and mutters _Mischief managed_ , then gets out of bed and starts pulling on his clothes. 

 

 _There’s nothing for it_ , he thinks. _I’ll have to tail Malfoy, that’s the only way I’m going to find out where he disappears to…_ That will obviously be highy impractical, what with his lessons, Quidditch practise, Apparation lessons and homework, not to mention his study dates with Hermoine, but it’s March already and Harry isn’t any closer to finding out what Malfoy is up to than he was at the start of term… _or start of the school year,_ he thinks sullenly. 

 

”Ready?” he says to Ron and starts walking towards the dormitory door while stuffing his Cloak into his pocket, then pauses in the doorway when he realises that Ron hasn’t moved at all, but is in fact leaning against his bedpost and staring out the window with a far-away look in his eyes. ”Ron? Breakfast, remember?”

 

”I’m not hungry”, Ron says with a sigh. 

 

Harry just stares at him for a second, because in all the years that he’s been best friends with Ron Weasley he has _never_ heard him turn down food, not once. 

 

”You just said —”

 

”Oh, all right, I’ll come down with you. But I’m not eating.”

 

”You’ve just eaten half that box of chocolate, haven’t you?” Harry says, swallowing an impulse to snicker. 

 

”It’s not that”, Ron says with another heavy sigh. ”But you wouldn’t understand…”

 

”Eh, alright… fair enough”, Harry mutters and turns back to the door, because he _is_ hungry and whatever Ron is playing at, he won’t miss breakfast just because Ron’s being silly. 

 

”Harry!” Ron exclaims suddenly and Harry startles. ”I can’t stand it! I can’t stop thinking about her!”

 

Harry stares in alarm at his friend, who is now looking both pale and frantic. He wasn’t expecting this, he truly wasn’t. That Lavender was acting like a love-sick puppy, that was one thing. But if Ron is going to start calling her _Lav-Lav_ , Harry will have to put his foot down. 

 

”And I don’t think she even knows I exist…” Ron adds miserably. 

 

”You what?” Harry says, feeling more and more bewildered by the second. ”I’m pretty sure she knows you exist. She keeps snogging you, doesn’t she?”

 

”Snogging?” Ron says and blinks at him. ”What are you on about?”

 

”Eh…”

 

”Who are you even talking about?”

 

”Well, who are _you_ talking about?” Harry says with an exasperated huff, wanting this whole absurd conversation to end already.

 

”Romilda Vane”, Ron says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, then turns to gaze out the rain-splattered window again with that same dreamy, unfocused look in his eyes. ”I think… Harry, I think I love her…”

 

”Okay…” Harry says, then walks up to his friend and peers more closely at his glazed eyes, realisation starting to trickle into his mind. ”Ron, where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?”

 

”Hm? Oh, they were a birthday present…”

 

”You didn’t just pick the box up from off the floor?”

 

”So? They’d fallen off the bed! I offered you one, didn’t I?” 

 

With a groan, Harry picks the half-empty box up from Ron’s bed and looks more closely at it. He immediately recognises the box as the one given to him by none other than Romilda Vane just before Christmas and having remembered Hermoine’s warning, he’d assumed they’d been spiked with love potion and stuck the box in his trunk without even opening it. _It must have fallen out when I dug the Map out_ , he thinks. 

 

”Okay”, Harry says, thinking fast. ”Okay, Ron, I’m going to introduce you to Romilda.”

 

”You will?” Ron says and lights up. ”Oh, Harry, you promise? Can we go right now?”

 

”Yes. Yes, we’ll go right now… She’ll be in… Slughorn’s office”, he says decisively and grabs Ron by the arm and more or less drags him out the door. 

 

For a moment he’d considered taking Ron to see Severus, but then he’d decided against it telling himself that he simply didn’t want to disturb the man on his morning off, especially since there’s no logical reason for it now that Slughorn is Hogwarts’ Potions Master anyway. But a small part of him knows that if he’d been on his own, he wouldn’t have hesitated to go to Severus. In fact, he’d be thrilled to have an excuse, _any excuse,_ to pay a visit to the older man. 

 

But with Ron on his arm, Harry is sure that Severus would simply treat him with his usual contempt anyway, _so what would be the point_ …

 

They shoulder past a hurt-looking Lavender waiting for Ron by the portrait hole, Ron ignoring her _Won-Won_ and impatiently pushing her out of the way. Harry throws her an apologetic look just before the Fat Lady swings shut behind them, but judging by the offended look on Lavender’s face it might have come off slightly amused. 

 

Slughorn answers his office door after only one knock, wearing a green velvet dressing gown with matching nightcap and blinks at them with sleep-swollen eyes. 

 

”Harry”, he mumbles. ”This is very early, I must say… I generally sleep in on a Saturday, you know…”

 

”I’m really sorry to disturb you, Professor”, Harry says quietly, aware of Ron standing on tip-toe behind him, trying to look past Slughorn to catch a glimpse of Romilda Vane. ”But my friend has just swallowed a love potion by mistake, and I was hoping you could make him an antidote? I’d take him to Madam Pompfrey, but you know… awkward questions…”

 

”Oh”, Slughorn says and blinks at Ron in surprise. ”I would have thought you could whip him up a remedy, Harry — an expert potioneer such as yourself?”

 

”Er…” Harry struggles to come up with an explanation, as Ron is elbowing him in the ribs trying to force his way into the room. ”Well, quite, but I’ve never brewed an antidote for a love potion before, Sir, and I wouldn’t want to risk it, besides as you can see it’s quite urgent —”

 

Rather helpfully, Ron picks this precise moment to moan ”I can’t see her, Harry — is he hiding her from me?”

 

”Yes, I can see that”, Slughorn agrees, a spark of professional interest in his eyes now as he studies Ron’s face. ”Was the potion out of date by any chance? You know they can strengthen over time…”

 

”Ah, well, that would explain a lot then”, Harry pants, now practically wrestling Ron to keep him from knocking Slughorn over. 

 

”Well, all right, come in then, the both of you…” Slughorn finally relents. 

 

Slughorn mixes up the antidote expertly, while Harry tries to keep Ron calm. He tells him Romilda isn’t there yet, but she’s on her way. 

 

”Oh, good”, Ron says and nods feverishly. ”How do I look?”

 

”Er, great”, Harry mutters. ”Very… you know…”

 

”Handsome”, Slughorn supplies smoothly and hands him the antidote. ”Now drink this, m’boy. It’s okay. It’s a tonic for the nerves, that’s all.”

 

Ron downs the antidote eagerly, and Harry and Slughorn watch as his beaming grin fades and then warps into a look of horror. Harry chuckles, ”Back to normal then?”

 

Ron collapses bonelessly into the nearest armchair, looking decidedly devastated. 

 

”I think he needs a pick-me-up”, Slughorn says and bustles over to a table loaded with different types of drink. ”I’ve got Butterbeer, I’ve got wine… I’ve got a bottle of oak-matured mead… hmm… was meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas, ah well…”

 

Slughorn pours them all a glass each, chortling. Harry suddenly realises that this is the first time he’s got the man on his own since that first disasterous attempt at getting the memory from him, and maybe if he can keep him in a good mood… if they get through enough mead…

 

Slughorn raises his glass for a toast and Harry eagerly mirrors him, but Ron barely takes note of either of them and just chugs the content of his glass. 

 

Harry immediately knows something’s terribly wrong and it’s confirmed instantly when Ron’s glass falls from his fingers and he sort of jerks out of the armchair and then crumbles to the floor. He starts shaking uncontrollably, his eyes rolling back into his head and foam dribbles from his mouth. 

 

” _Ron_!” Harry screams. ”Professor! Do something!”

 

But Slughorn merely stares in shock at Ron, seemingly paralysed. Harry spins around, his heart beating out of his chest, his mind whirring frantically, as he looks around in panic until he sees Slughorn’s open potion kit and he starts over to it, pulling out jars and pouches with trembling hands as the terrible gargling noise of Ron’s breathing washes over him. 

 

Then he finds it — the shrivelled up stone that he’d given Slughorn during their last Potions lessons. Hurtling back over to Ron’s side, Harry pushes the bezoar past Ron’s chattering teeth and then promptly puts his hand over his friend’s mouth and nose, forcing him to swallow it. 

 

Ron gives one final shudder, then with a rattling gasp as Harry removes his hand again, his whole body goes limp.

 

 

*

 

Harry feels like he’s told the story a hundred times, first to Madam Pompfrey, then McGonagall and Dumbledore, Hermione and Ginny, and now Fred and George who have come to bring Ron his birthday present. 

 

”This isn’t how we imagined handing it over”, George says as he puts the wrapped parcel on the bedside cabinet next to Ron’s hospital bed. 

 

”Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious”, Fred agrees gloomily and pulls up a chair to sit next to Harry, his eyes never leaving Ron’s pale face. 

 

They all discuss whether Slughorn might have had something to do with the poison getting into Ron’s glass and if the target had indeed been Ron, or Harry, but Slughorn getting the glasses mixed up. But, as Ginny points out, the poison was more likely to have been in the bottle already in which case the intended target would have been Slughorn himself. 

 

”Or Dumbledore”, Ginny says. ”Didn’t you say that Slughorn was meant to give the bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas, Harry?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry agrees, thinking hard.

 

”Well, in that case, whomever poisoned the mead didn’t know Slughorn very well”, Hermione speaks up for the first time. ”Or they’d have known that it’d be a good chance he’d keep something that tasty for himself…”

 

Suddenly Ron emits a weak moan that sounds suspisciously like _Hermione_ and everyone immediately quiet down and stares expectantly at him. But Ron doesn’t wake up nor does he make another noise. 

 

The doors to the Hospital Wing fly open, distracting them for a moment and Hagrid strides inside, leaving a trail of muddy footprints the size of baby sea lions in his wake. Tears are already welling in his eyes as he towers over them all. 

 

”Been in the Forest all day, Aragog’s worse you see, and I only just got back for dinner now and that’s when Professor Sprout told me! How is he?”

 

”Not bad. Madam Pompfrey says he’ll probably be okay”, Harry hurries to reassure the half-giant before he starts wailing in earnest. 

 

”I just don’t believe it”, Hagrid says hoarsley. ”Look at him… lying there… I mean, who’d want to hurt Ron eh?”

 

When Mr and Mrs Weasley get back from talking to Dumbledore, Harry and Hermione decide to let the Weasleys have a moment alone with Ron and accompany Hagrid out of the Hospital Wing. 

 

”It’s just terrible, all this new security and kids are still getting hurt”, Hagrid growls. ”Dumbledore’s worried sick of course, he don’t say much but I can tell… It’s the Chamber of Secrets all over again isn’t it, there’ll be panic, more parents taking their kids out of school, and the next thing you know the board of governors will be talking about shutting us up for good…”

 

”Surely not?” Hermione says, wringing her hands. 

 

”Well, you got to see it from their point of view hadn’t you?” Hagrid says with a heavy sigh. ”I mean it’s always a risk sending a kid to Hogwarts, isn’t it? Hundreds of underage witches and wizards all locked up together, you’d expect accidents to happen obviously… but attempted murder, now that’s different, isn’t it? No wonder Dumbledore is angry with Sna—”

 

Hagrid suddenly stops in his tracks, a familiar guilty expression on his face that he always gets when he’s gone and revealed something that he wasn’t supposed to. 

 

”What?” Harry speaks up for the first time since leaving the Hospital Wing. ”Dumbledore is angry with Snape?”

 

”I never said that!” Hagrid says loudly, the look of increased panic on his face a dead give-away. ”Look at the time, I’d better be off now —”

 

”Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?” Harry insists.

 

”Shhh”, Hagrid hushes angrily. ”Don’t go shouting stuff like that, Harry! Do you want me to lose my job? Not that you’d care, now that you’re not even taking Care of Magical—”

 

”Don’t try and make me feel guilty”, Harry cuts him off. ”What’s Snape done?”

 

”I don’t know, Harry, I shouldn’t have heard it at all, all right? I… Well, see, I was coming out of the Forest the other evening and I overheard them talking — well, arguing really — I wasn’t eavesdropping, and I didn’t want them to think I was so I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself, you know, so I sort of skulked a bit — I tried not to listen, I really did! — but, well, it was a rather heated discussion, I couldn’t exactly block it out —”

 

”Never mind that”, Harry says. ”What was the discussion about?”

 

”Well, all I heard was Snape saying that Dumbledore took too much for granted and maybe he — that’s to say, Snape — didn’t want to do it anymore…”

 

”It? What? Do what?” Harry asks eagerly. 

 

”I don’t know, Harry”, Hagrid insists. ”It sounded like Snape was a but overworked is all, and anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out that he’d agreed to do it, and that’s all there was to it. Pretty firm with him actually. Then he said something about Snape making investigations in his house, in Slytherin — well, there’s nothing strange about that, is there? All the Heads of House were asked to look into that whole necklace business weren’t they? —”

 

 _Yeah, but the other Heads of Houses aren’t getting into arguments with Dumbledore about it, are they_ , Harry thinks.


	12. Quidditch distasters and dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still checking the Map every chance he gets and often making detours to wherever Malfoy happens to be, Harry is becoming more and more obsessed with the blonde Slytherin and those inexplicable times when he seems to vanish from the Hogwarts grounds completely, the dot that represents him on the Map nowhere to be found, which is alarming to say the least…

Still checking the Map every chance he gets and often making detours to wherever Malfoy happens to be, Harry is becoming more and more obsessed with the blonde Slytherin and those inexplicable times when he seems to vanish from the Hogwarts grounds completely, the dot that represents him on the Map nowhere to be found, which is alarming to say the least… However, between Quidditch practise, homework and lessons, Harry barely has time to consider the problem, especially now that he’s being followed almost whereever he goes by either Cormac McLaggen or Lavender Brown. 

 

He’s just enduring yet another one-sided, in-depth discussion about Won-Won’s feelings with Lavender when he spots McLaggen heading his way and quickly excuses himself and slips through a door pretending to be a wall before the other boy can reach him. 

 

On the morning of the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, Harry pays Ron a brief visit before heading down to the pitch. Madam Pomfrey has refused to let Ron go down to watch the match, claiming that it would likely overexcite him. 

 

”Well, good luck”, he says glumly when it’s time for Harry to leave again. ”Hope you hammer McLag— er, I mean, Smith.”

 

”I’ll try”, Harry says and shoulders his broom. ”See  you after the match, okay?”

 

As he hurries down the deserted corridors, he peers out the windows he passes, trying to gauge how much wind they’ll be facing, when a sudden noise ahead startles him and he looks up. Malfoy is walking right towards him, flanked by two sulking girls that Harry doesn’t remember ever seeing before. All three stop short at the sight of Harry, but then Malfoy huffs out a humourless laugh and continues walking again, avoiding eye contact with Harry. The two girls glares resentfully at him for a moment, then stares at the ground instead.

 

”Where are you going?” Harry demands. 

 

”Yeah, I’m really going to tell you, because it’s your business”, Malfoy sneers without meeting Harry’s eyes. ”You’d better hurry up, they’ll be waiting for the Chosen Captain, or The Boy Who Scored, or whatever it is they’re calling you now…”

 

One of the girls lets out an unwilling giggle, then blushes when Harry looks at her. Finally the trio reaches Harry and Malfoy pushes past him, making sure to knock his shoulder hard against Harry’s, then turns a corner and disappears. Harry stays rooted to the spot for a moment, torn between running down to the pitch before the match starts without him and getting out his Invisibility Cloak and following Malfoy, because it suddenly clicks into place; this is the perfect opportunity for Malfoy to carry out his task, with the whole school down at the Quidditch pitch, he’ll have the whole castle to himself. This is Harry’s best chance yet of discovering what the other boy is up to… 

 

In the end he decides he can’t let his team down like that and hurries to the changing rooms. Everyone else is already changed and waiting for him when he gets there. Ginny demands to know where he’s been and tells her he bumped into Malfoy, but she doesn’t seem to understand what the big deal is. 

 

”I wanted to know how come he’s up at the castle with a couple of girlfriends while everyone else is down here… Oh, nevermind… Come on then, everyone!”

 

Harry leads his team out onto the pitch to deafening cheers and boos from the bleachers. As soon as he’s shaken hands with the Hufflepuff Captain, Harry kicks off the ground and rises into the air, higher than anyone else in his team, streaking round the pitch in search of the Snitch, thinking if only he could catch it really early, he might have time to get back up to the castle and catch Malfoy red-handed… 

 

His thoughts are interrupted by an unmistakably dreamy voice echoing across the pitch, ”That’s Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle” 

 

Harry swerves around to stare at the Commentator’s podium… _Surely no-one in their right mind would let Luna commentate?_ But even from this high up, there’s no mistaking that long dirty-blonde hair, or that necklace of Butterbeer corks. 

 

”He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him — I think on purpose, it looked like it — Smith was being really rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets that now he’s playing them…”

 

Next to Luna, Professor McGonagall sits, looking decidedly uncomfortable, as though she was indeed having second thoughts about offering Luna the job. 

 

”—Oh look, he’s lost the Quaffle, Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she’s very nice…”

 

Harry can’t help but to laugh. For all her eccentricities, there’s something refreshingly genuine about Luna and she _is_ funny, whether or not she _means to be_ is another question, but sometimes Harry wishes he could be more like her. 

 

”…Now that big Hufflepuff player’s got the Quaffle from her, I can’t remember his name, it’s something like Bibble — no, Buggins —”

 

”It’s Cadwallader!” Professor McGonagall exclaims loudly next to her and the crowd laughs. 

 

Harry forces himself to focus on finding the Snitch once more, but he’s barely circled the pitch once when he’s again distracted, this time by McLaggen who, having been too busy shouting at Ginny for letting the Quaffle out of her possession, completely misses said ball as it comes hurtling through the air towards the goal next to him, allowing Cadwallader to score. 

 

”McLaggen, will you pay attention to what you’re supposed to be doing and leave everyone else alone!” Harry bellows, the Snitch momentarily forgotten again.

 

”Harry Potter is now having an argument with his Keeper”, Luna comments serenely while the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs in the crowd cheer and laugh. ”I don’t think that will help him find the Snitch, but maybe it’s a clever ruse…”

 

Harry swears and swerves around again, scaning the sky for a sign of something glinting in the sun, vaguely aware Luna’s continued commentary as it drifts completely off-point, until McGonagall leans in to bark the current score into Luna’s megaphone. 

 

”Is it, already?” Luna says. ”Oh, look! The Gryffindor Keeper has got hold of one of the Beater’s bats!”

 

Harry spins around in mid-air and stares incredulously, and sure enough, McLaggen has pulled Peake’s bat from him and seems to be giving the other boy a demonstration. 

 

”Will you give him back his bat and get back to the goalposts!” Harry roars, pelting towards his team mates just as McLaggen takes a swipe at an oncoming Bludger and mis-hitting it… 

 

_Blinding, sickening pain_

 

_A flash of light_

 

_Distant screams_

 

_And finally the sensation of falling, like he’s falling down a long, dark tunnel_

 

The next thing Harry knows, he’s lying in a remarkably warm and comfortable bed, almost as familiar to him as the fourposter in the Gryffindor dormitroy at this point. He doesn’t even have to look around him to know that he’s in the hospital wing. 

 

”Nice of you to drop in.”

 

Harry raises his head awkwardly and turns towards the voice and is immediately met by a grinning Ron Weasley sitting up in the bed on Harry’s left. Harry groans, then carefully turns his head the other way to peer out the window. The sky is decidedly darker now, streaks of indigo and crimson bruising the clouds. _The match must have finished hours ago_ , he thinks. _And any hope of cornering Malfoy…_  

 

Harry sighs. 

 

”What happened?” he asks dully, not really wanting to know. 

 

”Cracked skull”, Madam Pomfrey informs him as she bustles into the room and then proceeds to push him back against the pillows when he attempts to sit up. ”Nothing to worry about, I mended it at once, but I’m keeping you in overnight all the same. You shouldn’t overexert yourself for a few hours.”

 

”I don’t want to stay overnight, I want to find McLaggen and kill him!” Harry says angrily and hauls himself to sitting once more. 

 

”That would come under the heading of ’overexertion’ I’m afraid”, Madam Pomfrey says and pushes him back down again. ”You will stay here until I discharge you, Potter, or I shall have to call the Headmaster.”

 

After she’s left again, Ron tells him how much they lost by. He seems apologetic about it, but Harry can also detect a glint of triumph and barely suppressed glee in his eyes, probably relieved that McLaggen messed up so spectacularly. After the worst of his rage has simmered down, Harry tells Ron about bumping into Malfoy. 

 

”Wish I’d followed him now, the match was a fiasco anyway…”

 

”Don’t be stupid”, Ron says. ”You couldn’t have missed a Quidditch match just to follow Malfoy, you’re the Captain!”

 

”I want to know what he’s up to!” Harry growls in frustration. ”And don’t tell me it’s all in my head—!”

 

”I never said it’s all in your head, Harry. But you’re getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy… I mean, to even think about missing a match just to follow him…”

 

”You think that a Quidditch match is more important than one of Voldemort’s plots do you”, Harry snaps, then immediately regrets it when he notices the stricken look on his friend’s face. 

 

”Mate”, Ron murmurs, his freckles standing out more than ever against his pale skin. ”That’s not… Of course I don’t…”

 

”Sorry”, Harry mumbles. ”It’s just so frustrating. The Map never lies, but Malfoy has obviously found a way to hide…”

 

”Maybe he goes to Hogsmeade?” Ron suggests, and not for the first time. 

 

Harry shakes his head, ”No. I’ve never seen him going along any of the secret passageways on the Map…”

 

The discussion tapers off after that and they fall silent. Before long Ron falls asleep. When Madam Pomfrey comes back to draw all the curtains, Harry pretends to be asleep too and after she’s gone again he continues pretending, hoping it will help him actually fall asleep, but between the throbbing in his head and the thoughts swirling frantically inside it, sleep is miles away. 

 

He thinks about organising some sort of surveillance system with the rest of the DA, between them they would have a much easier time following Malfoy, but no… He can’t ask them to skip lessons for him, besides it would appear suspiscious and it might even alert Malfoy to the fact that Harry is on to him… 

 

Then suddenly, the solution hits him. _Kreacher_. 

 

Harry sits bolt upright in bed, his heart hammering away in his chest. There _is_ a way for him to have Malfoy tailed wihtout the boy realising. Why hasn’t he thought of it before? 

 

Tentatively, Harry speaks into the darkness, ”Kreacher?”

 

There’s a loud _crack_ in the silent room, followed by the noise of scuffling and squeaks. Ron wakes up with a yelp and sits up in confusion. 

 

”What’s going on —?”

 

Harry hurriedly points his wand at the door to Madam Pomfrey’s office and mutters _Muffliato_ before scrambling to the end of his bed to get a better look at the commotion on the floor; two house-elves are rolling around on the floor, wrestling furiously. 

 

With another loud _bang_ , Peeves the Poltergeist appears above the elves. 

 

”I was watching that, Potty!” he tells Harry and points to the wrestling elves, before letting out a cackle. ”Look at the ickle creatures squabbling—!”

 

”Kreacher will not insult Harry Potter in front of Dobby, no he won’t—!” Dobby cries in his high-pitched voice. 

 

”Kreacher will say what he likes about his master, and what a master he is, filthy friend of Mudbloods, oh, what would poor Kreacher’s mistress say if she knew—!”

 

Dobby’s little fist connects with Kreacher’s mouth suddenly and half his teeth seem to be flying out. Harry and Ron both scramble to their feet and wrench the two house-elves apart. They continue to kick and scream, egged on by Peeves who has started pelting bits of chalk at them and singing suggestions like _Stick your fingers up his nosey_ or _Pull his earsies_ , until Harry points his wand at him and shouts _Langlock_ , managing to shut him up. 

 

”Nice one!” Ron says, lifting Dobby into the air so that his flailing limbs have no chance of reaching Kreacher. ”That was one of the Prince’s hexes, wasn’t it?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says. 

 

Twisting Kreacher around he forbids him to fight with Dobby, then tells him to tail Malfoy. Dobby eagerly volunteers to help out as well. 

 

”Come to think of it, it would be good to have both of you”, Harry agrees. ”Okay then. I want to know where he’s going, who he’s meeting and what he’s doing. I want you to follow him around the clock.”

 

”Yes, Harry Potter!” Dobby exclaims at once, his large tennis ball-shaped eyes glistening with excitement. ”And if Dobby does it wrong, Dobby will throw himself off the topmost tower, Harry Potter!”

 

”There will be no need for that!” Harry says hurriedly, well aware that Dobby might do just that. 

 

”Master wants me to follow the youngest of the Malfoys?” Kreacher croaks. ”Master wants me to spy on the pureblood great-nephew of my old mistress?”

 

”Yep, that’s the one”, Harry says. ”And you’re forbidden to tip him off, or to show him what you’re up to, or talk to him, or write him messages or… or to contact him in any way. Got it?”

 

After a moment’s hesitation, Kreacher bows and mutters to himself with bitter resentment, ”Master thinks of everything and Kreacher must obey him even though Kreacher would much rather be the servant of the Malfoy boy, oh yes…”

 

 

*

 

Harry sits cross-legged on his four-poster bed, peering at the Marauder’s Map in wand light while nibbling on a Chocolate Frog, the soothing sound of heavy breathing and the occasional snore coming from the other beds in the dorm blanketing him. The dot marked _Draco Malfoy_ sits immobile in the Slytherin boys’ dormitory, in what Harry assumes must be the boy’s bed. 

 

A bit further down the dungeons, in the opposite end of the corridor leading to the Potions classroom, the dot marked _Severus Snape_ is moving restlessly within the confines of the professor’s private chambers. Chambers that Harry can now picture perfectly, having actually been inside and sat in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace.  

 

Harry throws a cursory glance at Professor Slughorn’s private chambers as well, still feeling dreadfully ashamed after his last meeting with Dumbledore when the old man had favoured him with the coldest look of disappointment that Harry had ever received, and the fact that it came from Dumbledore himself, who always seemed to have a twinkle in his eye, just made it that much worse. 

 

 _I’ll get the memory_ , Harry thinks fervently, and not for the first time since leaving Dumbledore’s office the previous week, but in truth he was nowhere near getting his hands on it. 

 

He gives the immobile dot representing _Slughorn_ one last look, then lets his gaze travel back to Severus. He’s still pacing in his livingroom. Harry pictures the orange glow from the fire spreading over the room and giving the man’s skin a slightly healthier hue. He pictures the drawn out, flickering shadows dancing over the walls and over Severus’ face. He pictures the glittering embers reflected in those dark, dark eyes… 

 

The next thing he knows, someone is poking him in the arm and startles awake. Sitting up, he realises that he must have fallen asleep, sprawled on top of the Map and with his glasses still on his face. He rubs the side of his temple and feels the uneven skin where they’ve been digging in. 

 

” _Mischief managed_ ”, he mutters and taps the Map. 

 

”I’d say”, Ron says with a snicker. ”Good dream was it?”

 

Harry gives him a confused look, ”What?”

 

Ron nods towards Harry’s lap and snickers again when Harry blinks and then becomes painfully aware of his own erection straining against his pyjama bottoms, tenting the material comically. He feels his face flush, and quickly drags his pillow across his lap before shooting Ron a glare. That only makes his best friend laugh harder though. 

 

”So what was it?” he asks once he’s got his sniggers under control again. ”Did you dream about broomsticks and goal hoops, or was it a proper sex dream with another person?”

 

”I’m not _telling you_!” Harry says indignantly, even as fragmented images of pale skin and dark eyes flashes through his mind, and _long, slender piano fingers reaching out, brushing, caressing, gripping, squeezing…_

 

Harry groans and rubs both hands over his face as if that might also wipe the images from the forefront of his mind, not that he doesn’t appreciate them, but if he’s to have any hope of getting his stiffy under control he definitely needs to think about something else. _Anything else_ really. 

 

”Come on, we’re late for breakfast”, Ron says and tosses an empty Chocolate Frog packet at Harry’s head. It sticks in the mess that is Harry’s hair. 

 

Harry brushes it off with another glare in Ron’s direction which does nothing to wipe the teasing grin of the redhead’s face. 

 

”Bit of privacy please?” he bites out, but Ron just shakes his head and snickers some more. 

 

”No time for that, mate!”

 

”That’s not what I meant!” 

 

”Yeah, yeah… Just put your robes on, you’ll be fine. Now let’s _go_!”

 


	13. Sweet dreams are made of these...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”You won’t find anything in there”, Hermoine says firmly, throwing the book an contemptuous look. 
> 
> ”Don’t start, Hermoine”, Harry mutters. ”If it hadn’t been for the Prince, Ron wouldn’t be sitting here right now…”
> 
> ”He would if you’d just listened to Snape in our first year”, Hermoine counters.

Harry is sitting with both Ron and Hermoine in the Gryffindor Common Room late one evening. It’s the first time the three of them have been sat together in almost six months, and it’s a weight off of Harry’s shoulders to have both his best friends on speaking terms again, but not even that is enough to distract him from the nagging worry over Dumbledores reaction if he should fail to get that memory form Slughorn yet again. 

 

He starts flipping through the pages of his Potions book at random, which has become the norm for him whenever he’s at a loss, hoping to find a note written by the Prince that will offer him some inspiration as to how he’s supposed to get the memory, anything that will jog his imagination really. 

 

”You won’t find anything in there”, Hermione says firmly, throwing the book an contemptuous look. 

 

”Don’t start, Hermione”, Harry mutters. ”If it hadn’t been for the Prince, Ron wouldn’t be sitting here right now…”

 

”He would if you’d just listened to Snape in our first year”, Hermione counters. 

 

Harry immediately feels his cheeks heat up at the mere mention of Severus and quickly glances over at Ron, who had unfortunately been there to witness the result of Harry’s latest dream about the former Potions Professor, as if the other boy would be able to tell and start teasing him about it. But of course Ron has no way of knowing, and probably would never even think to suspect, that _Severus Snape_ had had the starring role in Harry’s _good dream_ , or _dreams plural_ , if Harry is honest with himself because it’s not like that was the first dream of that nature to have invaded his sleep. It was, however the first time that anyone had seen the effect those dreams had on Harry. 

 

Harry ducks his head to hopefully hide the blush on his face and concentrates on the text book in front of him instead. Suddenly a single spell — _Sectumsemptra!_ — scrawled above the words _”For enemies”_ catches Harry’s eyes. It’s not the first original spell that the Prince has made note of in the book, and the ones that Harry’s tried out so far have been really brilliant. He can’t wait to try this one out, but thinks it’s better to wait until Hermione isn’t around. But he folds the corner of the page so that he’ll be able to find it again later, well aware of Hermione’s disapproving glance out of the corner of his eye. 

 

”I’m telling you, the stupid Prince isn’t going to be able to help you with this, Harry!” Hermione exclaims. ”There’s only one way to force someone to to do what you want, and that’s using the Imperius curse, which is illegal—”

 

”Yeah, I know that, thanks”, Harry snaps. ”Which is why I’m looking for something different. Dumbledore said Veritaserum won’t do it, but maybe there’s a spell or a potion…”

 

Hermione shakes her head wildly, her big frizzy hair jostling around her, ”You’re going about this the wrong way! Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. So clearly that must mean that you can persuade Slughorn in a way even Dumbledore can’t! So obviously it’s not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that—!”

 

A sudden loud _crack_ interrupts her and she startles with a gasp as Kreacher the house-elf materialises in front of the three of them. 

 

”Master is wanting regular reports on what the Malfoy boy is doing, so Kreacher has come to give —”

 

Another loud _crack_ rings through the hush in the mostly deserted Common Room and Dobby appears next to Kreacher on the rug, his tea-cosy hat slightly askew. 

 

”Dobby has been helping too, Harry Potter!” he squeaks, throwing Kreacher a resentful look. ”And Kreacher ought to tell Dobby when he is coming to see Harry Potter so they can make their reports together!”

 

”Alright, alright”, Harry cuts in before the two house-elves start fighting again. ”What’s Malfoy been doing? Dobby, has he been going anywhere he shouldn’t?”

 

”Harry Potter, Sir, the Malfoy boy is breaking no rules that Dobby can discover… but he is still keen to avoid detection. He has been making regular visits to the seventh floor with a variaty of other students who keep watch for him while he enters —”

 

”The Room of Requirement!” Harry exclaims and smacks himself hard on the forehead with _Advanced Potion-Making_. ” _That’s_ where he’s been! _That’s_ why I couldn’t find him on the Map!”

 

On the one hand Harry feels ecstatic at this new development, on the other hand he also feels extremely stupid for not having figured it out sooner. _But never mind,_ he thinks eagerly. _At least now I know where Malfoy gets to, now I just have to find a way to get in there and catch him doing… whatever it is he’s doing when he’s in there!_

 

”But what’s this about him going up there with ’a variaty of other students’?” Hermione says after the house-elves have Disapparated again. ”How many people are in on it? You wouldn’t think he’d trust lots of people to know what he’s doing…”

 

”Yeah, that _is_ weird”, Harry mumbles, thinking back on the argument he’d overheard between Malfoy and Crabbe and how Malfoy wouldn’t even tell him and Goyle what he was up to… _and now he’s suddenly telling all these… all these…_ ”Oh God, I’ve been stupid!”

 

”What?” Hermione says. ”What is it?”

 

”There hasn’t been a whole variaty of students keeping a lookout for him, it’s just Crabbe and Goyle, _it’s been Crabbe and Goyle the whole time_!”

 

”Polyjuice potion?” Hermione guesses. 

 

”Slughorn had a whole cauldron of it that one lesson, Malfoy could easily have nicked some. _It all fits_!” Harry says excitedly before he jumps up and starts pacing in front of the fireplace. ”They’re stupid enough to to do what they’re told even if he won’t tell them what he’s up to… But he doesn’t want people to see them lurking around outside the Room of Requirement, because then it would be obvious that that’s where Malfoy was, so he’s had them disguise themselves as other students… those two girls I saw him with before the Hufflepuff match! That must have been them!”

 

”Do you mean to tell me that that little girl, whose scales I repaired —?” Hermione says in a hushed voice. 

 

”Yeah, of course!” Harry exclaims as he remembers the incident. ”We were on the seventh floor at the time, weren’t we? Malfoy must have been inside the Room of Requirement at the time, and that little girl, that must have been Crabbe or Goyle… Maybe they dropped the scales to warn Malfoy not to come out or something? And there was that other time when a girl dropped the toad-spawn, remember Ron? God, we’ve been walking past him all this time and not realising it!”

 

 

*

 

 

Harry can’t sleep. Ron’s already snoring away over at the next four-poster, started doing the minute his head hit the pillow, but Harry can’t stop his thoughts from racing. He’s sure that if Malfoy could get into the Room of Requirement when the DA had used it for practise last year, then Harry would find a way to get in when he’s using it now… What could he use it for? A meeting place, a storeroom, a workshop? 

 

Harry’s mind swirls and whirls, until finally sleep overtakes him and his thoughts turn into dreams… _Malfoy turns into Slughorn who turns into Severus…_

 

 

Severus dark eyes are glittering, the corners of his mouth twitch and his long, slender fingers reach out to brush against Harry’s cheek… 

 

Harry lets himself fall forward and presses his face against the other man’s chest, the rough texture of those black robes scratches against Harry’s skin… 

 

Strong arms envelop him and gently hug him _closer, closer, closer_

 

One hand travel up his neck, fingers nestling into Harry’s hair

 

Thin but soft lips brushing the scar on his forehead

 

A whisper of a breath, warm and tickling

 

 _Harry,_ that deep, silky voice rumbles all around him

 

 

Harry moans quietly and squirms in his sleep. The hand in his hair tightens to a fist and pulls his head back... The lips resting against his forehead travel down the side of his face and slip onto his mouth, slotting into place and gently sucking his lower lip in, wetting it with a teasing tongue tip

 

”Harry”

 

Harry gasps and the tongue delves in between his lips and it’s all _wet_ and _hot_ and he’s _tingling all over_ , heat is pooling into his belly, _into his groin_

 

” _Harry_!”

 

Harry awakes with a gasp and scrambles to sitting. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and reaches for his glasses. When he’s pushed them onto his face, Ron’s teasing grin comes into focus and he groans, _not again…_

 

”You need a girlfriend, mate”, Ron says with a cheeky wink. ”You’re clearly frustrated…”

 

”Gee, I wonder why!” Harry snaps. 

 

Ron simply snickers and throws his robes at his head, ”Let’s go! We’ll miss breakfast!”

 

”Besides I don’t even think I like girls”, Harry says and pulls the robes over his head. 

 

The room goes deathly silent for a moment. Swallowing hard, Harry peers over at Ron. The redhead looks comically vacant, like he’s been stunned. But then blinks furiously and seems to shake off the intial shock. Harry holds his breath. 

 

”Oh, right”, Ron says. ”Since when?”

 

Harry shrugs uncomfortably. He’s not even sure himself. He was really into Cho in fourth year, or he thought he was until they kissed anyway... but when he hadn’t felt anything in particular during the kiss, his crush started to cool off. At first he’d figured it was because she was crying at the time, but after that disaster of a date in Hogsmeade on Valentine’s Day, it was clear that he had no romantic feelings for the Ravenclaw whatsoever. 

 

But it wasn’t like Harry had automatically started noticing attractive guys around him instead as soon as his crush on Cho ended. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t really been attracted to any guys at all… _well, except for…_ But Harry thinks it’s safest to save that revelation, not wanting to shock his best friend any more than necessary, so he just shrugs again and says, ”A year or so?”

 

Ron nods thoughtfully, then shrugs as well, ”Alright then. Cool. But hurry up already, will you? We’ll miss breakfast!”

 

 

 

 


	14. Felix Felicis

Harry is pacing the corridor on the seventh floor, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, willing the Room of Requirement to open up for him by thinking hard about Malfoy and whatever the Room turned into for him. He’s tried a number of different versions, _I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming, I need to see what Malfoy keeps doing in here, I need you to become the place you become for Draco Malfoy…_ but the wall remains as solid as ever. 

 

Harry has been so caught up with trying to think of the right combination of words that would reveal the room Malfoy keeps sneaking into, that he completely loses track of time and it’s not until a horrified scream coming from a small herd of first years running round the corner, probably having mistaken Harry for a particularly rude ghost when he’d sworn loudly at the stubborn Room, that he realises he’s late for Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

 

Swearing again, Harry starts running in the opposite direction and doesn’t stop until he’s right outside the classroom where he pauses to catch his breath and stuff the Cloak into his robes’ pocket before entering. 

 

Severus dark eyes sweeps over to him as he trots down the aisle to slide into the seat next to Ron and Harry holds his breath, waiting for the professor to say something cold and taunting, but Severus’ gaze flits away again without a word. Harry feels himself deflate slightly, mostly from relief but also a little… disappointment. He glances round the classroom at his fellow students, realising that most are still on their feet, taking out books from their bags and organising things on their desks, so if Harry was late he wasn’t the only one, _but still… He should have at least taken points,_ Harry thinks. _The old Snape would have done._

 

”Before we start, I want your Dementor essays”, Severus says and waves his wand nonchalantly. causing twenty-five scrolls of parchment to immediately soar into the air and land in a neat pile upon his desk. ”I hope for your sakes that they’re better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now, if you will all open your books to page — Yes, what is it, Finnigan?”

 

”Sir”, Seamus says eagerly, leaning forward in his desk. ”I was wondering if you could tell us the difference between a ghost and an Inferius, because I read this article in the _Prophet_ this morning about an Inferius—”

 

”No, you didn’t”, Severus says in his most long-suffering, bored tone of voice. 

 

”But, Sir, I heard people talking and—”

 

” _If_ you had actually read the full article in question, mister Finnegan, you’d know that the so-called Inferius was nothing but a smelly sneak-thief by the name of Mundungus Fletcher.”

 

”I thought Snape and Mundungus were supposed to be on the same side”, Ron mutters under his breath. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry mutters back, because he’d been thinking the exact same thing, not that it should surprise him that Severus would refuse to show any remorse for somene in the order being hurt or arrested, _wouldn’t be the first time…_  

 

”But _Potter_ seems to have something to say on the subject”, Severus cutting voice breaks through Harry’s train of thoughts. ”Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost.”

 

Every student in the room turns to stare at Harry, whose cheeks immediately heat up and he gives the professor an indignant look, because _that_ was just _not fair,_ even for Snape _._ _Ron_ had been the one speaking, not Harry. 

 

Ron gives him an apologetic look, but Harry shakes his head subtly to dismiss it. In fact, if he’s being completely honest with himself a small part of him is actually pleased to be in Severus crossfire once more. _At least he isn’t ignoring me anymore,_ he thinks. 

 

”Well, er, ghosts are transparent —” Harry starts. 

 

”Oh, very good”, Severus interrupts with a sneer. ”Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. _Ghosts are transparent._ ”

 

Pansy Parkinson lets out a shrill giggle, and the rest of the Slytherins are smirking at him. Harry just glares back, then returns his focus to Severus again. 

 

”Yeah, ghosts are transparent”, he says with forced calm, thinking quickly, trying to remember everything he knows about Inferi, having been given a lecture on them and other Dark creatures by Hermoine earlier in the year during one of their revision sessions. ”But Inferi are dead bodies, aren’t they? So they’d be solid —”

 

”A five-year-old could have told us as much”, Severus says. ”The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard’s spell. It is not alive, merely used like a puppet to do the wizard’s bidding. A ghost, as I trust all of you are aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth… and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, they are _transparent._ ”

 

”Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we’re trying to tell them apart!” Ron blurts out. ”When we come face to face with one down a dark alley, we’re going to be having a shufti to see if it’s solid, aren’t we, we’re not going to be asking, ’Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?’…”

 

There’s a ripple of laughter, immediately quelled by death glare from Snape. But Harry can’t help the amused smile that still lingers even as Snape turns his glare on him. It seems to soften slightly though, when Harry just keeps smiling. And in the next moment, Severus has turned away completely. 

 

”Ten points from Gryffindor”, he says. ”But I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, mister Weasley, the boy so _solid_ he cannot Apparate half an inch across the room… Now open your books to page two-hundred and thirteen.”

 

Ron is decidedly subdued after that, and at the end of the lesson, as he and Harry avoid Lavender by slipping into the nearest bathroom he voices his thoughts with Harry, ”Snape’s right, isn’t he. It’s not even worth me taking the test, I just can’t get the hang of Apparition…”

 

Harry gives him a sympathetic smile and pats him awkwardly on the shoulder, ”Hey, you might as well take those extra lessons in Hogsmeade and see where they get you. If you’re still not ready to take the test, you can take it with me in the summer— _Myrtle, this is the boys’ bathroom!_ ”

 

The ghost of a girl had popped out of one of the toilets and is now floating midair, staring at them through her thick, round glasses. 

 

”Oh”, she says glumly. ”It’s you two…”

 

”Were you expecting someone else?” Ron asks sarcastically. 

 

”No”, she mutters. ”He said he’d come back but I knew he was lying… Just like _you_ were lying when you said you’d come and visit me…”

 

She gives Harry a reproachful look. 

 

”But I thought he was different, I thought he liked me…” she continues with a wet sigh. ”We have lots in common, I’m sure he felt it too…”

 

”When you say you have lots in common”, Ron says, sounding rather amused now. ”You mean he lives in an S-bend too?”

 

”No”, Myrtle says sharply. ”I mean he’s sensitive! People bully him too, and he hasn’t got anyone to talk to about it! And he’s not afraid to show his feelings and cry!”

 

”There’s been a boy in here crying?” Harry asks curiously. ”What, a young boy?”

 

”Never you mind!” Myrtle roars in rage and with another shriek she dives back into the toilet and disappears again. 

 

 

*

 

 

They’re having breakfast in the Great Hall when a girl walks up to Harry and delivers a letter from Hagrid. He quickly scans it, then hands it over to Hermione. 

 

”Oh for heaven’s sake”, she says and passes it to Ron. 

 

That huge pet spider of Hagrid’s — Aragog —  has finally passed away and now the half-giant wants to hold a funeral for it. _Which is fine_ , Harry supposes. But he also expects the three of them to attend, which is a little less than fine honestly. 

 

”He’s _mental_!” Ron says. ”That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go over there and cry over its horrible hairy body, _no way_!”

 

”It’s not just that”, Hermione says. ”He’s asking us to leave the castle at night, and he knows security is a million times tighter and how much trouble we’d be in if we were caught.”

 

Harry takes the note back and stares down at the inky blotches where tears have clearly landed and he sighs. 

 

”Harry, you can’t think of _going!_ ” Hermione says. ”It’s such a pointless thing to get detention for! Honestly!”

 

”Yeah, I suppose…” Harry says. 

 

”It is”, Hermione says firmly. ”Now. With most of us taking our Apparition test this afternoon, Potions will be practically empty. Why don’t you try and persuade Slughorn to give you that memory—?”

 

”Oh, what, like I haven’t tried that already!” Harry protests, because he knows she thinks he’s been wasting his time and energy on Malfoy and whatever he’s doing in the Room of Requirement, but he _has_ been trying to get Slughorn on his own; every Potions lesson he’s hung around afterwards but every time Slughorn has disappeared before he’s had a chance to speak to him, and every time Harry had gone to knock on the door of his private quarters he never answers. ”What, fifty-seventh time lucky, you reckon?”

 

”Lucky”, Ron says suddenly. ”Mate, that’s it!”

 

”What?”

 

”Use your lucky potion!”

 

”Ron that’s — that’s it”, Hermione gasps. ”Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”

 

 _Felix Felicis_ , Harry thinks. _Of course._

 

”Okay”, he says. ”If I can’t get Slughorn on his own today after Potions, I’ll drink some of Felix tonight!”

 

The bell rings overhead in the castle and both Ron and Hermione jump to their feet, looking terrified, and Hermione starts muttering _the three Ds_ under her breath, _”Destination, determination, deliberaton…”_

 

”You’ll do fine”, Harry tells them both before they separate from him in the Entrance Hall to join the other students old enough to take the test. ”Good luck!”

 

Harry waves at them, then continues down to the dungeons on his own. There are only three of them in Potions, Harry, Malfoy and a boy named Ernie. 

 

”All too young to Apparate just yet?” Slughorn says with wink. ”Not seventeen yet?”

 

They all shake their heads, and Harry catches Malfoy roll his eyes slightly. But Slughorn doesn’t seem to have noticed. He claps his hands together cheerfully and grins at the three of them. 

 

”Well”, he says. ”Since we’re so few today, we’ll do something _fun_! I want you all to brew me up something amusing!”

 

”What do you mean something _’amusing’_?” Malfoy says irritably. 

 

”Oh, surprise me”, Slughorn says with another wink. 

 

Malfoy opens up his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ with a bit more force than necessary and glares sullenly at its pages, clearly thinking the lesson to be a waste of his time. Harry supposes he’d rather be in the Room of Requirement. 

 

And is it his imagination, or does Malfoy look a lot thinner? He certainly looks paler, probably due to the fact that he rarely sees sunlight nowadays, Harry figures. The task, whatever it is, must be going badly.

 

 

*

 

 

Harry feels the _Felix Felicis_ wearing off as he creeps back into the castle. The front doors remain unlocked for him, but on the third floor he runs into Peeves and only narrowly avoids detection by diving sideways through one of the hidden short-cuts. By the time he stops in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady and pulls the Invisibility Cloak off, it’s not surprising that she’s in a rather unhelpful mood. 

 

”What time do you call this?” she says. 

 

”I’m really sorry — I had to go out for an emergency —”

 

”Well, the password changed at midnight so you’ll just have to sleep in the corridor, won’t you.”

 

”What! You’re joking!”

 

”If you’re angry, go and take it up with the Headmaster…”

 

”Fantastic! Really brilliant! Oh yeah, I’ll go and take it up with him, but oh wait, he’s not here is he—”

 

”He is here”, a voice interrupts him and Harry spins around to see Nearly-Headless Nick floating in midair. ”Professor Dumbledore returned to the school an hour ago.”

 

”He’s back!” Harry exclaims, feeling his heart leap. ”Where is he?”

 

”Oh, in his office no doubt…”

 

”Great!” Harry pulls the Invisibility Cloak back on and starts sprinting down the stairs again, ignoring the voice of the Fat Lady calling after him. 

 

Harry hurtles round the corner, the password _toffee eclairs_ already on the tip of his tongue as he unexpectedly crashes into something, _or rather someone_ and topples over backwards ungracefully and lands hard on his backside. Peering up through his messy fringe, his heart stutters to a stop at the sight of _Severus Snape_ towering over him — looking as stoic as ever — the glint of surprise in his eyes the only sign that he’d in fact just collided with an over-excited student. 

 

”Potter! What—”

 

”Harry”, Harry corrects under his breath and scrambles to his feet again. ”Sorry, didn’t mean to… do that…”

 

” _Harry_ ”, Severus says sharply. ”What on earth do you think you’re doing out of bed at this hour—?”

 

”I need to see Dumbledore—”

 

”It’s nearly _three in the morning_ —”

 

”It’s important—”

 

”I can’t just let you—!”

 

”Please. It’s _really_ important.”

 

Severus takes a deep, and one might even say _long-suffering,_ breath and pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

 _Dramaqueen,_ Harry thinks fondly, but is careful to keep his face neutral. 

 

”Please”, he says again and risks a small step closer to the older man. ”You can come with if you want,   and you can walk me to my dorm after if you’re worried about m—”

 

”I am not _worried about you_ , mister Potter”, Severus says sharply. ”And I _will not_ accompany you to the Headmaster’s office nor Gryffindor tower, because _I_ am going to _bed_ … Good night.”

 

With a swirl of robes as dramatic as ever, Severus spins on his heel and stalks down the corridor without another glance in Harry’s direction. 

 

”Good night”, Harry calls after him, then adds quietly ” _Severus_ …”

 


	15. Sectumsempra!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore lifts his blackened, burned-looking hand and studies it calmly for a moment, as though fascinated by it. Harry glances at it as well, but feels slighty sick to the stomach and has to look away again. 
> 
>  
> 
> ”Yes, not a pretty sight, I’m afraid… but a thrilling tale. But maybe we should save that for another time, when it isn’t quite so late. However, suffice it to say, that had not been for my own prodigious skill — if you’ll forgive my lack of modesty — or Professor Snape’s timely action when I returned to Hogwarts—”
> 
>  
> 
> ”Snape?” Harry says eagerly, before he can stop himself. 
> 
>  
> 
> ”Professor Snape, Harry”, Dumbledore corrects him with a look admonishing from over the rim of his glasses. ”And yes. When I returned to the castle I was desperately injured, in fact it was touch and go for a moment, but Professor Snape managed to stop the curse from spreading… and, I trust you will agree, a withered hand is indeed a small price to pay for a seventh of Voldemort’s soul.”

”He made _seven_ horcruxes?” Harry exclaims against the backdrop of horrified gasps from most of the portraits in Dumbledore’s office. ”But they could be anywhere in the world — hidden — buried or _invisible_ even—!”

 

”I’m glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of our problem”, Dumbledore says with a calm that is frankly bordering on arrogance considering the circumstances. 

 

But then again, Harry figures, the older wizard have had a lot of time to contemplate _their problem_ by now, although he needed Slughorn’s memory to confirm it, Harry is sure that he’s suspected for quite a while and there’s no saying how shocked he felt when the idea first struck. He might even have struggled through a bout of despair similar to the one Harry is experiencing now. 

 

Feeling suddenly lightheaded, Harry sinks down on the nearest surface, which happens to be the edge of Dumbledore’s desk, but if the Headmaster minds he makes no show of it. Instead he peers at Harry over the rim of his halfmoon glasses, his eyes shining with sympathy and kindess. 

 

”Firstly, though, Harry”, he says after a moment’s silence. ”Not seven horcruxes, but six. The seventh part of his soul still resides in Voldemort himself, however maimed. That was the part of him that lived a spectral existence for so many years and that latched onto Professor Quirrel like a parasite… and that seventh piece of his soul has to be the last that one who wishes to kill Voldemort must attack.”

 

”Fine, six horcruzes then”, Harry says hoarsely and grips the edge of the desk, the mild sensation of vertigo still assaulting his senses and even with the sturdy oak desk supporting him he sways slightly. ”How are we supposed to find them?”

 

”You are forgetting, you have already destroyed one of them”, Dumbledore says. ”And I have destroyed another.”

 

”You have?” 

 

”Oh yes. The ring, Harry. Marvolo’s ring… and a terrible curse there was upon it too…”

 

Dumbledore lifts his blackened, burned-looking hand and studies it calmly for a moment, as though fascinated by it. Harry glances at it as well, but feels slighty sick to the stomach and has to look away again. 

 

”Yes, not a pretty sight, I’m afraid… but a thrilling tale. But maybe we should save that for another time, when it isn’t quite so late. However, suffice it to say, that had not been for my own prodigious skill — if you’ll forgive my lack of modesty — or Professor Snape’s timely action when I returned to Hogwarts—”

 

”Snape?” Harry says eagerly, before he can stop himself. 

 

”Professor Snape, Harry”, Dumbledore corrects him with a look admonishing from over the rim of his glasses. ”And yes. When I returned to the castle I was desperately injured, in fact it was touch and go for a moment, but Professor Snape managed to stop the curse from spreading… and, I trust you will agree, a withered hand is indeed a small price to pay for a seventh of Voldemort’s soul.”

 

Harry nods numbly, the images of Dumbledore’s story rushing through his head. 

 

”Well”, Dumbledore says briskly. ”We should not congratulate ourselves too heartily. You destroyed the diary and I the ring, but four horcruxes remain. Now, I can only guess what they might be but I believe that Lord Voldemort would prefer objects that, in themselves, have a certain grandeur.”

 

”The locket! Hufflepuff’s Cup!” Harry says, feeling a jolt of excitement as he it all clicks into place, all the memories that Dumbledore has shown him throughout the year. 

 

”Yes”, Dumbledore says with a smile. ”My thoughts exactly. I would be prepared to be — perhaps not my other hand, but at least a couple of fingers — that the locket and the cup became the third and fourth horcruxes. The remaining two — assuming he did indeed make six — are a bit of a bigger problem, but I would hazard a guess that, having secured objects from Slythering and Hufflepuff, Voldemort would want to track down something of Gryffindor’s and Ravenclaw’s as well, to complete the set, as it were… I can’t tell you whether he managed to find something of Ravenclaw’s, but I can tell you for sure that the only known relic of Godric Gryffindor remains quite safe.”

 

He points one of his blackened fingers to the wall behinf him where a ruby-encrusted sword sits in a glass cage. _The sword of Gryffindor._ Harry remembers the weight of it, how heavy it had been when he  first pulled it out of the Sorting Hat down in the Chamber of Secrets four years ago, but when he’s swung it at the Basilisk, just before the creature lunged at him, it had suddenly been as light as a feather. 

 

”So assuming he found something that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw”, Harry says, feeling a bit funny about how much of this conversation seems to rely on his and Dumbledore’s _assumptions_ , but he tries not to dwell on that, at least not right now. ”The sixth horcrux… it could be anything.”

 

”I think I know what the sixth horcrux is”, Dumbledore says. ”I wonder what you’ll say when I confess that I have been curious for a while about the behaviour of that snake, Nagini?”

 

”The snake!” Harry says, startled. ”You can use animals as horcruxes?”

 

”Well, it’s inadvisable to do so”, Dumbledore says with a conceding tilt of the head. ”For obvious reasons. But if my calculations are correct, Voldemort was at least one horcrux short of his goal that night when he entered your parents’ house. And since he seems to reserve the process of making horcruxes for particularly significant deaths — which yours surely would have been, had he succeeded in killing you that night — I am sure that he had intended to make his final horcrux with your death. But, as we know, he failed… Years later, he used Nagini to kill an old Muggle man, and it might then have occurred to him to turn Nagini into his last horcrux. Being a serpent, she would underline the Slytherin connection. Also, I think he is as fond of that snake as he can be of anything.”

 

”Sir, if we find all these horcruxes and destroy them… Voldemort _can_ be killed?” 

 

”Oh yes, without the horcruxes Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget though that, although his soul is damaged beyond repair, his brain and magic both remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort, even without his horcruxes.”

 

What little hope Harry might have felt sinks like a boulder again and he swallows down a hint of bile, before opening his mouth to protest that _he_ doesn’t _have_ uncommon skills and power… _It became apparent to me very quickly that he had no extraordinary talent at all,_ Severus voice slithers into his mind, cold and cutting… _Potter has fought his way out of a number of tight corners by a simple combination of sheer luck and more talented friends. He is mediocre to the last degree…_

 

” _You have_ a power that that Voldemort has never had, Harry”, Dumbledore says firmly, as though having read his thoughts. 

 

Harry shakes his head impatiently, ”Yeah, I know, I can _love_ …”

 

”Yes, Harry, you can love”, Dumbledore says sharply. ”And that is not a trifling thing.”

 

”So when the Prophecy says that I’ll ’have power the Dark Lord knows not’ that’s all it is, love?” Harry says, trying — and failing — to let the disappointment he feels to seep into his voice. 

 

”Yes — just love”, Dumbledore says. ”But Harry, never forget that what the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it so. He singled you out as the person who would be the most dangerous to him, and by doing so he _made_ you the person who would be most dangerous to him!”

 

 _So what,_ Harry thinks feeling more and more exasperated by the second. 

 

”Sir, with all due respect, it still comes to the same —”

 

”No, it doesn’t!” Dumbledore cuts him off, for the first time ever and Harry marvels at having made Dumbledore _impatient,_ something he’d been sure was impossible. ”You are setting to much store by that prophecy! Harry, _think about it_ , if Voldemort had never heard of the prophecy, would it have been fulfilled? Would it have meant anything? Of course not! Do you think that every prophecy in the Hall of Prophecy at the Department of Mysteries has been fulfilled?”

 

”B-But”, Harry stutters, bewildered. ”Last year you said one of us would have to kill the other—!”

 

”Only because Voldemort made a grave error and acted upon Professor Trelawny’s words! If Voldemort had not murdered your father he would not have imparted in you a furious desire for revenge! And if he had not forced your mother to die for you, her love would not have given you a magical protection he could not penetrate! Don’t you see, Harry? Voldemort himself has created his worst enemy, as tyrants everywhere do!”

 

Hary just stares at Dumbledore for a moment. Gone is the exhausted old man that greeted him when he knocked on his office door about an hour ago, and in his place now stands a quite invigorated and excited man who is all but salviating at the curious coincidences that happen to be _Harry’s life,_ and in the near-ish future possibly also _death_ , and Harry still don’t see the difference. So what if Voldemort _made_ the prophecy come true by acting on the assumption that it _would_ come true? The fact of the matter is, _it came true._  

 

 _It’s not like I can do anything to change it now_ , Harry thinks. _So what does it matter?_

 

”It is essential that you understand this!” Dumbledore exclaims suddenly, now agitated more than anything. ”By attempting to kill you, Voldemort himself singled out the remarkable person who sits here in front of me now, _and_ he gave him — that’s to say _you_ — the tools for the job! It’s Voldemort’s own fault that you are able to see into his mind, read his thoughts, his ambitions, and that you can understand and speak Parselmouth, the very rare language in which he gives orders, _and yet_ , despite your priviledged insight into Voldemort’s world, Harry, you have not once been seduced by the Dark Arts, never for a moment have you even toyed with the idea of joining him!”

 

”Of course I haven’t, he killed my mum and dad!” Harry splutters indignantly. 

 

” _Exactly_! You are protected, in short, by your ability to _love_!”

 

 

 

*

 

 

The next morning, during Charms, Harry casts a Muffliato spell on those nearest him, Ron and Hermione and then tells them everything about his lucky night and then the meeting with Dumbledore. Ron is so awed by the end of it that he moves his wand absent-mindedly, pointed as it is towards the ceiling. 

 

”Ron, you’re making it snow”, Hermione says patiently and gently grabs him by the wrist to guide his wand-hand down, but immediately lets go of him again after recieving a death glare from Lavender sitting a few desks over from them. 

 

”Oh yeah”, Ron says, looking down at his own shoulder in surprise. ”Sorry… looks like we’ve all got terrible dandruff now…”

 

He brushes some of the snow from Hermione’s shoulder, then startles when Lavender breaks out into tears and starts sobbing into Parvati’s braid where it lies draped over her chest, as the other girl embraces her before glaring over at Hermoine, who looks slightly guilt-ridden, Harry notices. 

 

”What did I miss?” he says, looking between his two best friends in apprehension.

 

”Lavender and I broke up”, Ron says quietly. ”Well, she kind of saw us when we came down from the dorms yesterday, only since she couldn’t see you, since you were under the Cloak, she thought it was Hermione and me… and well…”

 

”Ah”, Harry says, filling in the blank for himself. ”But you don’t mind that it’s over, do you?”

 

”Nah”, Ron says. ”I mean, it was pretty bad when she was yelling, and even worse when she started crying, but you know… at least I don’t have to come up with a way to break up with her now, right?”

 

”Coward”, Hermione mutters, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice. 

 

 

*

 

 

A few weeks later, just a few days days before the match against Ravenclaw that Gryffindor might actually be able to win now that Katie Bell was back from St Mungos and Ron was fit for play again, which would give them a shot at the Quidditch Cup after all, Harry finds himself walking down to dinner on his own — Ron had rushed off into a nearby bathroom to throw up again, a more and more common occurence as the day of the match drew nearer, and Hermione had gone to see Professor Vector about a mistake she thought she might have made in her last Arithmancy essay — and out of habit more than anything, Harry pulls the Map out to check on Malfoy. 

 

At first he can’t spot him at all, and assumes the other boy must have skipped yet another meal in favour of visiting the Room of Requirement, but then he suddenly spots the little dot standing in a boy’s bathroom on the floor below, accompanied not by Crabbe nor Goyle, but by Moaning Myrtle. 

 

Harry’s heart flutters quickly in its cage, as he remembers his last encounter with the depressive ghost. 

 

 

_He’s sensitive! People bully him too, and he hasn’t got anyone to talk to about it! And he’s not afraid to show his feelings and cry!_

 

_There’s been a boy in here crying?_

 

 

Harry taps the Map and mutters _Mischief managed_ as he turns on his heel and starts running towards the nearest staircase leading to that particular corridor. He pulls up short just outside the bathroom, cursing himself for leaving the Cloak in the dorms, he sneaks up to the bathroom as quietly as he can and presses his ear to the door. 

 

He can’t hear a thing. 

 

Holding his breath, he gently pushes the door open and peers inside. 

 

Draco Malfoy is standing with his back to the door, clutching the edge of one of the sinks, his white-blonde head bowed. 

 

”Don’t”, the unmistakable voice of Moaning Myrtle coos from one of the cubicles, but it’s softer and gentler than Harry had ever heard it before. ” _Don’t_ … tell me what’s wrong… I can help you…”

 

”No-one can help me”, Malfoy says quietly. 

 

His whole body trembling now and with a jolt Harry realises the boy is _actually crying_ , and even after making the connection with what Myrtle had said, and hearing him with Severus that time before Christmas, it still shocks Harry to witness the boy in such a vulnerable state. 

 

”I can’t do it”, Malfoy continues in a small voice. ”I can’t… it won’t work… and unless I do it soon, he says he’ll kill me—”

 

Malfoy cuts himself off with a choked sob, then gasps for breath. Then suddenly, with a great shudder he pushes himself away from the sink and looks up — immediately locking eyes with Harry through the mirror — he wheels around, drawing his wand and Harry, acting on pure instinct, pulls out his own wand but not quick enough to counter the hex Malfoy shoots his way. 

 

It misses Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside the doorway instead, and Harry throws himself sideways while thinking _Levicorpus_ and flicking his wand, but Malfooy is quick, really quick; he blocks the jinx and without missing a beat he swings his wand around for another hex —

 

”No! No! Stop it!” Moaning Myrtle squeals desperately, but both boys ignore her. 

 

The bin behind Harry explodes with a loud _bang_ when Malfoy’s hex hits it; Harry attempts a Leg-Locker Curse that bounces off the wall behind Malfoy’s ear and smashes the cistern beneath Myrtle. She screams. Water starts pouring everywhere. Harry slips in it as he tries to scramble to his feet and collapses on his back instead, his eyes fixed on Malfoy, whose face is now contorted with rage —

 

”Cruci—!”

 

”SECTUMSEMPRA!” Harry bellows from the floor, waving his wand desperately at the other boy. 

 

The hideous scowl on Malfoy’s face fades into a vacant look of shock that gradually turns into a painful frown, before his eyes roll back into his skull and he crumbles to the floor. There’s blood everywere. Harry flips over and crawls across the floor to the other boy, reaching out to him with a shaky hand. _Blood. Everywhere._

 

 _Oh God, what have I done?_ Harry thinks hysterically. 

 

Malfoy is bleeding profusely, seemingly from _everywhere,_ and the blood mingles with the water around them, turning it into a morbidly crimson pool. 

 

 _Oh God, oh God, please no, please,_ Harry thinks and pats the other boy’s wet chest uselessly, as if to try and stop the bleeding somehow, except there is not one clear wound, instead he seems to bleeding from each one of his pores… _maybe he is_ , Harry thinks numbly, _oh God what have I done…_

 

”N-No — I didn’t — Oh God — I didn’t m-mean —”

 

Myrtle suddenly lets out a deafening scream. 

 

”MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER—!”

 

The door bangs open behind Harry and he looks up, terrified: Severus stands in the doorway, his face livid and after having taken in the scene in front of him for a spilt second, he’s suddenly _right there,_ as if he’d Apparated between the door and the middle of the bathroom, pushing Harry roughly aside, he kneels next to Malfoy; he pulls out his wand and traces it over the slightly convulsing body before him, muttering some sort of incantation under his breath. _It almost sounds like he’s singing,_ Harry notes numbly where he’s sprawled on the floor next to him. 

 

The flow of blood seems to ease, Harry notices with relief so strong it almost makes him faint. Or maybe that’s because he’d held his breath for too long, waiting to see what Severus would do. Either way, the dizzy spell only lasts for a spilt second, as does the sense of relief, because even though Severus takes the time to gently wipe the residue of blood from Malfoy’s face before performing the incantation again, Harry can tell that it’s still touch and go; Even when the bleeding has stopped completely, Malfoy still looks more dead than alive.

 

”N-no, no… I- I didn’t mean”, Harry stammers, staring wildly, hopefully, _please please please,_ at the tip of Severus wand as it moves over Malfoy’s body, even as it blurs beyond recognition when tears well up in Harry’s eyes, _fat useless tears_ that he refuses to blink away, _Oh God so much blood, oh please, please_ , ”please, please, please—”

 

”Shut up, Potter!” Severus snaps at him after having finished the counter-curse for a second time, and then starts up again. 

 

After the third time, he half-lifts Malfoy into a standing position and props him up against his own body. Harry scrambles to his feet as well, but even as his body _twitches_ with the impulse to help, he stays rooted to the spot. 

 

”You need the Hospital Wing”, Severus murmurs in such a gentle tone of voice that, despite his guilt and fear, Harry feels a twinge of something else, something _petty_ that leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but it’s gone again just as soon as it flared to life as he watches Malfoy’s head roll onto Severus shoulder. 

 

”There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that”, Severus continues. ”Come…”

 

Malfoy clings to Severus, weak and small, his eyelids fluttering. Severus hugs him close and supports him across the bathroom. Pausing only briefly in the door and without turning to look at Harry he says in the coldest voice, ”Potter, you wait here for me…”

 

It doesn’t occur to Harry for a second to disobey. He shivers violently and hugs himself, looking around at the blood and water flooding the bathroom. He tries not to think about the wetness of his own clothes, and how much of that is Malfoy’s blood. He presses his eyes shut and counts down from ten, Myrtle’s wails and sobs a constant chorus in the background. 

 

Severus returns ten minutes later, but it might as well have been ten days. He strides into the room, his black robes billowing around him, and slams the door shut with a deafening _bang_ that echoes in the silence left after Myrtle makes herself scarce after merely a quick glare from Severus, who then turns his glare on Harry, who feels himself go slightly weak in the knees, but for once it isn’t the effect of his _stupid crush_ , it’s genuine _fear_. 

 

”I didn’t mean for it to happen!” Harry says at once. ” _P-please_ Sev—”

 

Harry catches himself and gulps down the rest of the man’s name, aware suddenly, with an awful heavy certainty, that he’s now forfeited the right to use the man’s first name, possible forever. 

 

”Snape, Sir”, he corrects himself. ”I really did not mean for that to happen, please, _please_ believe me…”

 

”I should hope not”, Severus replies in a tone of voice made of _pure acid_ and with a dark, furious look in his eyes to match it. ”Or maybe I’ve underestimated you, Potter. Clearly you know some seriously dark magic.”

 

”No!” Harry exclaims. ”Please. I didn’t even know what that spell would do—!”

 

”Who taught you that spell, Potter—?”

 

”I — I read it — in a book…”

 

”Go and get it—”

 

”I don’t have it!” Harry lies immediately, because even under the circumstances he still feels extremely protective of the Prince and his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. ”I don’t remember what it was called, it was in the library, I think—”

 

” _Be quiet_!” Snape hisses. ”You will go and fetch your school books, _all your books,_ and bring them to me, _Potter._ Now.”

 

”O-Okay, yeah, fine”, Harry mumbles hastily. 

 

He sprints past the other man and slips through the door, the harsch light outside in the corridor blinding him momentarily and he almost trips over his own feet. _Fuck_ , he thinks desperately. He starts running toward Gryffindor tower, his heart hammering so hard in his chest it’s physically painful. He yells the password at the Fat Lady who startles at first but then begins to splutter indignantly, but the magical lock on the portrait has already opened and Harry wrenches the portrait open. 

 

He thunders up the stairs to the boys dormitory and grabs his book bag from the top of his trunk. He rummages through it until he finds _Advanced Potion-Making_ and grabs it, then stares around wildly trying to think of what to do… He spots Ron’s book bag on the floor next to his bed and has an idea… 

 

He turns the other boy’s bag over and then fishes the Potions book out from the small pile and stuffs it into his own book bag. He sprints out of the dorm again and takes the stairs two at a time, silently counting the seconds as they tick by, knowing Severus is doing the same… if he’s going to do this, he needs to be quick, or Severus will know he didn’t run straight to his dorm and then straight back again…

 

He’s so familiar with the differemt short-cuts between Gryffindor tower and the corridor on the seventh floor by now, that he makes the detour in record time. He runs down the corridor thinking furiously, _I need a place to hide something so that no-one will be able to find it…_ He turns on his heel and runs back again, thinking the same… The third time, he hears the unmistakable sound of the wall rearranging itself… He spins around and stares in triumph at the door that’s suddenly appeared there: the _Room of Requirement_. 

 

But there’s no time for celebratory thoughts or to even catch his breath. Harry wrenches the door open and stumble inside. The room is now the size of a large cathedral and literally packed with stuff. Harry squeezes past the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague got lost last year, and then turns left by an enormous stuffed troll, looking around wildly he spots a cupboard… He hesitates for a second, then opens one of the cupboard’s creaking doors and placed the book inside, confident that no-one will find it.

 

 _But will_ I _be able to find it again,_ he thinks and looks around. Spotting a chipped bust of an ugly old warlock, he decides to place it on top of the cupboard, just to be sure. And, indulging himself for a moment, he puts an old wig on top of the warlock and as a final touch, a tarnished tiara. 

 

 _Enough_ , he thinks to himself. _Snape’s waiting…_

 

Harry flat-out runs the entire way back to the bathroom, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side and the sting in his chest. He bursts through the door of the bathroom and comes to a stumbling stop right in front of Snape who doesn’t even bat an eye when Harry doubles over, wheezing, merely holds out his hand — for a second Harry thinks he means to offer some assistance, but quickly realises that _No, he wants the book bag, of course he doesn’t want to help me_ — and Harry hands over his bag. 

 

Snape extracts Harry’s books, one by one, examining each with intense scrutiny until finally he holds up Ron’s Potions book. He doesn’t flip the pages of it, like he did with the other books, just gazes at the front cover for the longest time. Then gently opens it up to the first page and glances inside before quickly shutting it again. He looks up and pins Harry with his intense stare. 

 

”This is your copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ , is it, Potter?”

 

”Yes”, Harry says, still catching his breath. 

 

”You’re quite sure of that, are you, _Potter_?”

 

”Yes!” Harry exclaims again, slightly more defiant this time. 

 

”This is the copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?”

 

” _Yes_!”

 

”Then why”, Snape asks in his silkiest voice. ”Does it have the name ’Roonil Wazlib’ written inside the front cover?”

 

Harry’s heart skips a beat, Ah shit, he thinks furiously, but no, wait, it could be worse… if Ron hadn’t been using one of twins’ joke quills by mistake at the start of the year, it would have said ’Ronald Weasley’ and then it would be impossible to keep pretending, but as it is… 

 

”It’s my nickname!” Harry blurts. 

 

”Your nickname”, Snape repeats, with an unimpressed curl of his mouth. 

 

”Yeah — That’s what my friends call me, somtimes, as a joke, actually, not very often either, but yeah —”

 

”I understand what a _nickname_ is”, Severus snaps, his cold dark eyes boring into Harry’s once more, _reaching reaching_ , Harry feels the familiar tingling sensation in his mind, and immediately concentrates, _close your mind, close your mind…_

 

”Do you know what I think, Potter?” Snape continues quietly. ”I think that you are a liar, and a cheat, and I think you deserve detention every Saturday from now and til the end of term. What do you think of that, Potter?”

 

”With you?” Harry asks before he can stop himself, the note of hopefulness embarassingly evident in his voice and judging by the way Snape blinks in surprise, he must have noticed it too. 

 

”You can report to Filch at ten o’clock on Saturday—” Snape says firmly, and then thrusting the book bag and _Advanced Potion-Making_ into Harry’s hands, he swirls around to leave the bathroom again. 

 

” _No!_ ” Harry blurts out. ”Severus p-please don’t…”

 

The other man freezes with his hand on the door handle, his shoulders taut with tension. 

 

” _Please_ ”, Harry says again. ”Don’t push me away again…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on the scribbles that turned into this fix in the first place! The end is in sight! 
> 
> Please comment, it makes my day! <3


	16. Storytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”I am going to tell you the story. You will not interrupt me. If you do, I shall stop, and you will be evicted from these quarters. Have you understood me?”
> 
> ”S-Story, Sir?”
> 
> ”Have you understood?”
> 
> ”Y-Yeah”, Harry breathes out. ”I’ll be quiet. Promise.”

Snape turns back around, his dark eyes flashing dangerously, and before Harry has a chance to say anything else, the older man kills the distance between them. The impulse to recoil runs through Harry like an electric current, but he stands his ground. 

 

Snape says nothing. But the furious glint in his eyes speaks volumes, of course. 

 

Then suddenly, he’s grabbed Harry’s robe, and propelled him around to push him out of the bathroom. Harry stumbles, but before he can topple over, Snape is pulling him upright again. 

 

He then continues to push and pull Harry along, all the way down to the dungeons, and — Harry realises with a jolt — his own private quarters. 

 

As soon as the door squeals shut behind them, Snape lets go of Harry again as if the exposed strip of skin on his neck had burnt his hand. He pushes past Harry and disappears into the livingroom. Harry carefully follows, unsure of what he should be feeling now that the other man is sending him such mixed signals. 

 

 _Or maybe they’re not mixed at all,_ he thinks wryly. _Maybe he simply brought me here to torture me without the risk of getting interrupted._

 

Snape is on the other side of the room, retrieving a bottle of some amber liquid, probably whiskey or something along those lines, from a cabinet when Harry inches over the threshold. Snape continues to ignore him and pours himself a glass of whatever is in the bottle, then downs half of it in one go. He doesn’t offer Harry any, and Harry isn’t surprised in the slightest. 

 

He glances over at the armchair he sat in the last time he was here, wondering if he should risk it. 

 

”Sit”, Snape says curtly, deciding for him. 

 

Harry scurries over to the armchair and perches on the edge of the seat, watching the other man apprehensively. 

 

”I am going to tell you the story. You will not interrupt me. If you do, I shall stop, and you will be evicted from these quarters. Have you understood me?”

 

”S-Story, Sir?”

 

” _Have you understood_?”

 

”Y-Yeah”, Harry breathes out. ”I’ll be quiet. Promise.”

 

Snape refills his glass and puts the bottle back into the cabinet. He then takes a deep breath. His gaze is fixed on a point in the middle-distance, and Harry wants to reach out and _grab him_ or do anything that will get him to snap out of it and _look at Harry_ instead, but he barely dares to breathe too loudly, lest Snape will make good on his threat… 

 

Then Snape starts talking again, but the cutting tone is gone from his voice, as is the ice… This is a new voice, one that Harry hasn’t heard before, softer and more vulnerable than Harry would ever think possible, and it makes his heart clench just hearing it. 

 

He starts telling Harry about growing up in _Spinner’s End_ , briefly touching on the _tense atmosphere_ at home, as he calls it, and the lack of other children to play with outside of home, until suddenly one day he came across two girls his age… As he sums up the two sisters’ conversation — Petunia and _Lily_ — Harry’s heart skips a beat as he realises, _this it is… The story about my mum!_

 

Snape plows through the telling of those early days with Lily, long afternoons spent together, getting to know each other, Severus telling Lily about the magical world, then confiding in her the truth about his home situation, and even though he carefully avoids any emotional descriptions, Harry understands that they grew quite close during that summer. 

 

”Of course, once we got to Hogwarts, your mother was sorted into Gryffindor and I into Slytherin”, Snape says and takes another sip of his drink, but seems to savour it this time. ”We stayed friends, amazingly, but it was never quite the same after that… Even during the summers, when I got to see more of her than I did at Hogwarts, it wasn’t the same… Lily was beautiful, kind and amazingly talented, of course she had no trouble making lots of friends…”

 

Snape takes another deep breath and finally walks over to the other armchair and sinks down in it. Harry bites the inside of his cheek hard, so as not to blurt anything out. He promised Snape he’d keep quiet until the end of the story, and he has a feeling that it’s far from over. 

 

”As the years past, I began to withdraw more and more. I think, the more Lily and I grew apart, the more I wanted to withdraw from everything and everyone, and the more… Black, and  — his friends — became a nuisance…” Snape says diplomatically, with a curl of his lip. ”The more bitter and… _vengeful_ … I became. I started reading about the Dark Arts. I became slightly obsessed even. Lily tried to talk some sense into me, but I wouldn’t listen. It felt like betrayal. Of course, she was only worried about me. But at the time, it felt like she didn’t understand me and my interests, and _she_ was the one who was supposed to, she was the only one who ever understood me, and suddenly… suddenly she didn’t…”

 

Harry thinks back to Snape’s memory that he’d invaded last year in Dumbledore’s pensieve, the look of humiliation and fury — and, he now realises, betrayal and hurt — that had twisted the young Severus face as Lily had approached him and the Marauders, and then he’d spat out _”I don’t need your help, mudblood!”_

 

And it breaks Harry’s heart a little to think that those two children, who spent countless summer days lying next to each other in the grass, sharing confidences and professing eternal friendship, as children will do, to think that only a few years after that, they’d turn into those teenagers, glaring daggers at each other surrounded by their school mates — _well,_ her _school mates,_ Harry thinks, peering over at the other man now, and feeling even more sorry for him — and then… it could only have got worse after that, he assumes. 

 

”That was the beginning of the end”, Snape confesses, confirming Harry’s thoughts. ”I tried to apologise, of course. I felt awful about it and I told her as much, but it was too late. She wouldn’t forgive me. I was… quite devasted… I became even more obsessed with the Dark Arts, I started making… _other friends_ … and—”

 

Harry can’t help it, he takes a deep breath and then lets it out again slowly, shakily. _Death Eaters. Voldemort_. He can fill in the gaps, no problem. But he doesn’t know how to _feel_ about it. Snape glances at him through the corner of his eye, but he still won’t turn to look at him. 

 

Harry takes another deep breath, and leans back in the armchair. _I’m not saying a word,_ he thinks firmly. _I promised I wouldn’t interrupt._

 

When it becomes clear that Harry is not going to break the silence, Snape bows his head and stares into his half-empty glass, swilling the contents a little absently.

 

”We never made up”, he says finally. ”It was only a few weeks left until graduation anyway, and after Lily moved away. I… I never saw her alive again. But not a day goes by when I don’t think of her… I… I loved her.”

 

Snape drinks the remaining drops of his drink, then with a shaky exhale he turns to look at Harry finally. _End of story,_ Harry thinks, and nods in understanding. 

 

”Right”, he says, his voice oddly choked. ”So you’re not…”

 

There’s an unreadable look on Snape’s face, that would have told Harry volumes had he ever seen it before. But this one is new. 

 

”I kind of thought that you and… Malfoy—”

 

”I know what you thought.”

 

Harry feels his cheeks heat up a little, but doesn’t even bother trying to hide it. 

 

”I guess maybe I’ve been a little jealous”, he mumbles. 

 

There’s a glint in Snape’s eyes, but Harry is beyond hoping at this point. With his luck, Snape is probably livid with him again… _and any minute now he’ll start screaming… not that I don’t deserve it…_

 

”Mister Potter”, Snape says silkily, ignoring Harry’s flinch. ”I’m only going to say this once… I have never, and would not ever, engage in _any_ untoward activity with a student — Although this very conversation is verging on changing that — Furthermore, Draco is like family to me.”

 

Harry swallows thickly, the blush deepening on his face but the rest of him feeling colder than ever. He nods and looks down, not to hide the traces of his emotions, _because really, at this point, what’s the use?_ but because he can’t bring himself to meet the other man’s eyes any longer. 

 

”I _know_ that”, he murmurs. ”I do. And at first I honestly thought _that’s_ what I was jealous _of_ … it wasn’t until I talked to—”

 

He cuts himself off, realising he’s just dug himself a deeper hole and curses silently. 

 

”Let me guess”, Snape says swiftly. ”My qualities as the object of teenage infatuation has been the recent topic of conversation in the Gryffindor tower?”

 

By the end of the small tirade, Snape has regained some of his usual snipe and Harry actually welcomes it, but shoots the man an indignant glare all the same. 

 

”No! Who do you think I am?”

 

”So just the _Golden Trio_ then.”

 

” _No!_ ”, Harry barks out, then quickly backs down again, feeling all of five years old as he mumbles, ”Just Hermione…”

 

”I see…” Snape murmurs at length. 

 

He’s got that new look back on his face again. Harry sighs. 

 

”I can’t exactly talk to Ron about… stuff like that…” he confesses. ”I mean, I only just told him I’m not really into girls, and he took that surprisingly well actually, but I don’t know…”

 

”There’s quite a leap from _not being really into girls_ to coveting yours truly”, Snape supplies. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry agress, with a wry smile. ”Something like that.”

 

Snape nods a little, looking away as though bored with the whole subject — Harry even thinks he might have caught half an eye-roll — but on the whole, _bored_ is definitely a step up from the reaction Harry had expected… Nowhere near the reaction that his optimistically romantic Gryffindor heart had _hoped for_ , but definitely not as bad as it could be. 

 

Harry peers at Snape who peers at the bottom of his empty glass, as though considering a refill. After a moment’s silence, he speaks up again, slightly startling Harry who wasn’t expecting it, ”And you are sure that you’re not _really into girls_ , are you, mister Potter?”

 

Harry can almost hear the quotation marks in his voice and bristles a little. _Okay, so maybe I’m not as well-spoken as Snape, but who is?_ he thinks. 

 

Then it strikes him that maybe the reason Snape is taunting him is that he thinks it’s immature of him not to refer to himself as _gay_ , and maybe that’s why he’s questioning it. _Maybe he thinks it’s a phase_ , Harry thinks and feels disproportionately appalled at the idea. 

 

”I’m definitely gay!” he blurts out. 

 

Snape blinks. 


	17. Non-answers and non-princes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”So you are a virgin then”, Snape says and it’s no more a question than the look on his face is one of surprise. 
> 
> Harry is torn between embarassment and indignation, because of course he’s a virgin, what did Snape expect?

Seconds of awkward silence trickle past while Harry and Snape blink stupidly at each other. There was a moment, barely a split second, when Harry thought the older man might be about to smile — something about how the light hit the dark of his eyes — but he never did, and he definitely isn’t smiling now. In fact, he’s giving Harry one of his most unimpressed, bored looks and Harry can practically _hear_ him thinking _Foolish boy!_ or worse…

 

”I mean, I’ve never, you know — with anyone! — boys _or girls_ , well I’ve _kissed_ a couple of girls, but it hardly counts, and anyway I didn’t really like it, I mean I didn’t _hate it_ , but it didn’t feel very… _special_ either… and anyway, I’ve started having loads of feelings since then”, Harry babbles, and the more he babbles, the more unimpressed Snape looks but for the life of him he can’t seem to shut up. ” _Sexual_ feelings I mean, about you know, not about girls but… you know—”

 

”Yes!” Snape finally interrupts with an impatient hiss that overlaps Harry’s _You,_ and if Snape noticed he pretends he didn’t. ”I get the picture, mister Potter.”

 

”Right”, Harry mumbles. 

 

”So you _are_ a virgin then”, Snape says and it’s no more a question than the look on his face is one of surprise. 

 

Harry is torn between embarassment and indignation, because _of course he’s a virgin, what did Snape expect?_

 

”I’m only —” he starts to protest, but immediately cuts himself off and changes his tactics. ”It’s not like I have a lot options in Little Whinging. And when I’m at Hogwarts, well… I’m at Hogwarts!”

 

Snape raises an eyebrow delicately, but there’s a hint of amusement to it and Harry blushes. 

 

”I serve enough detention as it is!” he says. ”I wouldn’t want to risk getting caught necking in some broom cupboard, would I…”

 

”Quite right”, Snape agrees and Harry gets the distinct impression that he’s being appeased again. 

 

”What, it’s not like I’m the only one!” he exclaims. ”Snogging, sure, lot of that going on, but any more than that… _What_?”

 

Snape was definitely smirking now. 

 

”Your naiveté really does astound me, Harry… Only last night I caught two Second-years fooling around—”

 

” _Second_ years—!” Harry splutters. ”But— But… they’re so little!”

 

”Yes well, at least they were _both_ second years. If one of them had been older I would have had to have done more than simply taking points…”

 

”I should bloody well hope so!”

 

”Oh?” Snape says silkily. ”Age difference bothers you, does it?”

 

”Well, if… you know, one’s a kid…”

 

”Aha. And how old do you imagine I was when you yourself was in your second year—?”

 

”That’s different!”

 

”Really. How so.”

 

”Well, I didn’t fancy you then, did I? I fancy you now, and I’m—”

 

” _So much_ older”, Snape sneers. 

 

”I’m almost seventeen!” Harry exclaims, his voice breaking embarassingly on the last word. 

 

”Mister Potter, you are _not_ ’almost seventeen’”, Snape says in exasperation and doesn’t even bother hiding his eye-roll this time. ”Not that long ago you yourself informed me that you had _just_ turned sixteen. For someone who so emphatically informs me that he is _not a child_ on a reguar basis, I must say you do tend to favour the rhetoric of one!”

 

Harry feels his cheeks burning, but stubbornly glares back at Snape anyway. Snape huffs out a sigh and looks away. 

 

”And if I was seventeen?” he asks. 

 

Snape glances back sharply. 

 

”When I’m seventeen, I’ll be of age. I’ll be of _legal age_ in the Wizarding world, right? An adult?”

 

”Yes?” Snape hisses, his eyes twitching suspisciously. 

 

”Would it be different then? Between us?”

 

”Mister Potter, I believe I have made myself perfectly clear on this issue.”

 

”Yeah. _You don't date students_ ”, Harry scoffs. ”But what if I wasn’t your student then? What about after I graduate, I’ll be of legal age _and_ I’ll no longer be a student, will I?”

 

”That would be the logical assumption.”

 

”Well?”

 

”Well, _what_?”

 

” _Well_ … Would you—?”

 

Suddenly Snape stands up and swiftly turns away. He busies himself with pouring more whiskey into his tumbler, and if it wasn’t for the slight tremble in his hands, Harry would never have guessed that he was remotely bothered by the conversation at all. 

 

”It’s getting late”, the man says, with his back still turned to Harry. ”You need to leave.”

 

”But—”

 

” _You need to leave._ Now”, Snape barks out and drains half the glass in one deep sip. 

 

Harry sighs, but pushes to his feet and shuffles out of the room obediantly. He hesitates in the doorway and glances back at Snape for a moment. The man is glaring down at the tumbler in his hand, seemingly unaware of Harry completely but when Harry opens his mouth to speak, he visibly tenses up further, giving himself away. Harry just sighs again. He knows he won’t get another word in with Snape now that he’s in this mood anyway, so there’s really no point in making the man any angrier with him. 

 

”Bye Severus…” he mumbles, and leaves quietly. 

 

 

*

 

 

One evening, Harry is sitting under one of the windows in the Gryffindor Common Room, pretending to work on his Herbology homework while actually revisiting the memory of his latest visit at Snape’s quarters and the story he’d been told, and like every other time when he’s reminisced over that particular moment, his thoughts eventually drift into the less straight-forward conversation that had followed… Snape had told him that he would never get with a student, he’d been quite adament about it, as if even suggesting such a thing was a great insult about his person, and knowing Snape as well as Harry does now, he probably _did_ take it as an insult. 

 

 _Who’d ever have guessed that Snape took his role as Professor so seriously and would have such integrity in his post?_ Harry certainly wouldn’t have, not before. But now it seems ridiculous to suggest otherwise. 

 

”I want to talk to you, Harry”, Hermione says and plops down next to him on the sofa, breaking him out of his reverie.

 

”What about?” he asks suspiciously, because she had that stubborn frown on her face that usually lead to more revising. 

 

”The so-called Half-Blood Prince.”

 

”Oh, not again”, he groans. ”Will you please drop it?”

 

Harry haven’t dared return to the Room of Requirement to retrieve his Potions book yet, his performance in Potions suffering massively for it, but he’s certain that Snape suspected something and still does, and he will not risk revealing the Prince’s book by going back for it so soon. 

 

”I will not drop it”, Hermione says firmly. ”Not until you’ve heard me out. Now, listen. I’ve been trying to find out a bit about who might make a hobby of inventing Dark spells —”

 

”He didn’t make a hobby of it!” Harry says hotly. ”I’ve already told you a million times, he just made a note of the spell for himself, he didn’t write ’Go on, use this spell’, he probably never even meant for anyone to read it—!”

 

”He, he — who says it’s a he, anyway?” Hermione exclaims. 

 

”We’ve been through this”, Harry all but yells at her. ”Prince, Hermoine! _Prince_!”

 

 ”Right!” she yells back, cheeks blotchy with angry patches of red. ”Look at this!”

 

She pulls out a very old piece of newsprint out of her pocket and slams it down on top of Harry’s Herbology book. The moving photograph, yellowed with age, shows a young girl around their age, very skinny and quite sullen-looking, her face long and pallid. _She’s not very pretty,_ Harry thinks. But there’s a certain air about her, _a grace_ that feels familiar somehow, but he can’t really put his finger on it. 

 

 _Eileen Prince, Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team_ , the caption underneath the photograph reads. 

 

”So?” Harry says.

 

”Her name”, Hermione says and jabs her finger at the printed name to emphasize. ”Eileen Prince. _Prince_ , Harry!”

 

”What!” Harry says, half-chortling. ”You’re mad, Hermione! No way!”

 

” _Why not?_ Harry, there aren’t any real princes in the Wizarding world! It’s either a nickname, a made-up title somebody’s given themselves, _or it could be their actual name!_ No, listen! If, say, her father was a wizard whose surname was Prince and her mother was a muggle, then that would technically make her a _half-blood Prince_!”

 

”Yeah, very ingenious, Hermione…” Harry scoffs, although if he’s honest with himself it _is_ quite clever, but it doesn’t matter, because this time Hermione is wrong, he just knows it. ”I can tell it’s not a girl. I can just tell. Okay?”

 

”The truth is you don’t think a girl could be clever enough!” Hermione says, her shiny eyes glittering with a stung look and Harry feels marginally guilty. 

 

”Hey, look”, he says. ”That’s just ridiculous. How could I have hung round you for five years and not think girls are clever? Come on… It’s not that. It’s just… the way he writes, I don’t know… I can just sense it. The Prince was definitely a bloke. This girl, she’s got nothing to do with it. Where did you find this anyway?”

 

”The library”, Hermione replies predictably. ”There’s a whole collection of old _Prophets_ up there. Well, I’m going to try and find out more about this Eileen Prince…”

 

”Have fun with that”, Harry mutters and rolls his eyes, glaring after her as she strides across the Common Room and disappears through the portrait hole. 

 

”She’s just never got over you outperforming her in Potions”, Ron says conspiratorily from the other end of the sofa, before returning to his own homework.

 

”You don’t think I’m mad, wanting that book back do you Ron?”

 

”Course not! He was a genius, the Prince… Anyway, without his bezoar tip…” Ron trails off and draws a finger significantly across his throat. ”I mean, I’m not saying that spell you used on Malfoy was great—”

 

”Nor am I”, Harry agrees quickly. 

 

”But he healed alright, didn’t he? Back on his feet in no time.”

 

”Yeah”, Harry says, feeling the weight of guilt in his stomach all the same. ”Thanks to Snape…”

 

Ron fidgets awkwardly with his quill for a second, then resumes working on his Herbology essay and leaving Harry to brood alone. His thoughts are almost immediately interrupted however when Jimmy Peakes sidles up to him and holds out a scroll of parchment. 

 

”Oh… Thanks Jimmy… Hey, it’s from Dumbledore!” Harry says excitedly as he unrolls the parchment. ”He wants me to go to his office as quick as I can!”

 

He looks up and Ron stares back at him. 

 

”Blimey…” the other boy whispers. ”You don’t reckon… He hasn’t found…?”

 

”Only one way to find out!” Harry says and forces a smile onto his face that does nothing to ease the worry on his best friend’s face. 

 

”Blimey”, he mutters again faintly. 

 

”I’d better go”, Harry says and jumps to his feet. ”I’m sure it’ll be fine. See you later!”


	18. The worst night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Perhaps the horse has heard people say that I have not inherited my great-great-grandmother’s gift”, she says swiftly. ”Well, those rumours have been bandied about by the jealous for years. You know what I say to such people, Harry? Would Dumbledore have let me teach at this great school for so many years, had I not proved myself to him? — I well remember my first interview with Dumbledore; he was deeply impressed with my ability, of course… I was staying at the Hog’s Head at the time, funds were low you understand, and Dumbledore had the courtesy to come and see me in my room at the inn. And I must confess that, at first, he seemed ill-disposed toward the noble art of Divination, and I remember I started to feel a little odd, I had not eaten much that day… but then…”
> 
>  
> 
> Harry starts paying attention to Professor Trelawney’s story properly then, because he knows what happened after that: Professor Trelawney made the prophecy that altered the course of Harry’s entire life, the prophecy about him and Voldemort. 
> 
>  
> 
> ”…but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!”

Harry hurries along the seventh floor corridor, barely dodging a couple of bits of chalk thrown at him by Peeves and sends a defensive jinx in the Poltergeist’s direction before slipping round the corner. Once Peeves’ cackles have faded away, the corridors are deadly quiet except for Harry’s echoing footsteps. 

 

Then suddenly a scream cuts through the silence, followed by a heavy crash. Harry stops dead in his tracks and listens intently. 

 

”How — _dare_ — you — aaarrrgh!”

 

Harry locates the noise to another corridor nearby and sprints over, wand at the ready. He hurtles round another corner and stumbles upon Professor Trelawney, sprawled on the floor amongst several sherry bottles, one of them broken, her many shawls covering her head until she manages to tear them off, some of her glittering beads getting stuck in her spectacles in the process. 

 

”Professor —” Harry exclaims and hurries over and offers her a hand up. ”What happened?”

 

”You may well ask!” She says shrilly. ”I was just strolling along, brooding upon certain Dark portents I happen to have glimpsed…”

 

Harry looks up at the wall next to which Trelawney had collapsed and realises with a jolt where they are; on the right was the tapestry of dancing trolls so familiar to him by now, and on the left, the even more familiar stretch of stone wall that Harry knows to conceal —

 

”Professor, were you trying to get into the Room of Requirement?”

 

”—omens that I have — what?”

 

The professor blinks at Harry, slightly startled. 

 

”The Room of Requirement, or the Come And Go Room?” Harry says. ”Were you trying to get in there?”

 

”Well I — I didn’t know students knew about —”

 

”What happened?” Harry interrupts. ”You screamed, it sounded as though you were hurt?”

 

”I — well —” Professor Trelawney straightens up and pulls and shawls around herself more tightly, her magnified eyes staring down at Harry as she shiftsher weight from one foot to the other. ”I wished to deposit — ah — certain — um — personal items in the Room, you see…”

 

”Right”, Harry says and glances at the sherry bottles still scattered on the floor at their feet, as the Professor mutters something about _nasty accusations_ under her breath. ”But you couldn’t get in and hide them?”

 

”Oh, I got in alright”, Professor Trelawney says and glares att he wall. ”But there was somebody already in there, you see!”

 

”Somebody in —? Who?” Harry demands, his heartbeat quickening immediately. ”Professor! Who was in there?”

 

”I have no idea!” she splutters, slightly taken aback by the urgency in Harry’s voice. ”I walked into the Room and I heard a voice, which has never happened before in all my years of hiding — er — I mean, of using the Room…”

 

”A voice? Saying what?”

 

”I don’t know that it was saying anything, it was more… whopping.”

 

” _Whooping_?”

 

”Yes, gleefully”, Professor Trelawney says, nodding. 

 

”Like whoever it was, was celebrating?”

 

”Most definitely.”

 

”And then —?”

 

”And then I called out, ’Who’s there?’ naturally…”

 

 _No_ , Harry thinks in frustration and barely refrains from smacking his forehead with his palm. 

 

”And did whoever it was tell you who they were?”

 

”No, they did not”, Professor Trelawney says indignantly and straightens her shawls. ”Everything went pitch black and the next thing I know, I’m being hurled headfirst out of the Room!”

 

”And you didn’t see that coming?” Harry asks before he can stop himself. 

 

”No, I did not, as I say it was pitch —” Professor Trelawney stops short and glares suspisciously at Harry. 

 

Before she’s taken offense and stormed off in a huff, Harry distracts her by suggesting she come with him to Dumbledore so she can tell him about being thrown out of the Room of Requirement. _Dumbledore needs to know that Malfoy is celebrating_ , he thinks. 

 

Professor Trelawney however draws herself up further at the mention of Dumbledore, looking decidedly haughty and informs Harry that the Headmaster has made it clear that he would prefer fewer visits from her and that she is not about to force her company on anyone who doesn’t appreciate the information her Inner Eye can supply them with. 

 

Harry manages to keep his eyes from rolling towards the ceiling, and gives the woman his most sincere look.

 

”I still think you should tell him. I’m going to see him right now, I’ve a meeting with him you see. Why don’t we go together?”

 

”Oh, well, in that case…” Professor Trelawney says. ”Oh, all right then…”

 

She scoops up the sherry bottles and dumps them in a nearby vase, then links her arm with Harry’s as they set off down the same corridor that Harry had come running from and proceeded to give Harry a detail description of the omens the cards had shown her. 

 

”I am afraid that the nag — I’m sorry, the centaur — knows nothing of cartomancy, Harry. I asked him you know — one Seer to another — had he not, too, sensed the distant vibrations of coming catastrophe and do you know, he seemed to find me almost comical! Yes, _comical_!”

 

As she leans in, Harry gets a whiff of sherry and quickly turns his face away but makes sure to nod in all the appropriate places as the Professor continues to talk. 

 

”Perhaps the horse has heard people say that I have not inherited my great-great-grandmother’s gift”, she says swiftly. ”Well, those rumours have been bandied about by the jealous for years. You know what I say to such people, Harry? Would Dumbledore have let me teach at this great school for so many years, had I not proved myself to him? — I well remember my first interview with Dumbledore; he was deeply impressed with my ability, of course… I was staying at the Hog’s Head at the time, funds were low you understand, and Dumbledore had the courtesy to come and see me in my room at the inn. And I must confess that, at first, he seemed ill-disposed toward the noble art of Divination, and I remember I started to feel a little odd, I had not eaten much that day… but then…”

 

Harry starts paying attention to Professor Trelawney’s story properly then, because he knows what happened after that: Professor Trelawney made the prophecy that altered the course of Harry’s entire life, the prophecy about him and Voldemort. 

 

”…but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!”

 

”What?”

 

”Yes, there was a commotion outside the room and the door flew open, and there was the barman standing with Snape, who was bladdering on about having come the wrong way up the stairs or some such nonsense, but I believe he was eavesdropping on my interview with Dumbledore — you see, he was seeking a teaching post himself at the time! No doubt he was hoping to pick up some tips from my successful interview! — Well, anyway, Dumbledore offered me the job, and I couldn’t help thinking, Harry, that it was because he appreciated the contrast between my own unassuming manners and quiet talent, compared to the pushing young man who was prepared to listen at keyholes — Harry, dear?”

 

Professor Trelawney staggers to a stop, looking over her shoulder at Harry in surprise when it becomes clear that he’s not going to continue walking alongside her. A look of worry passes over the woman’s face and Harry can only assume what his own face must look like, all blood having drained from it. He feels cold all over. His heart is still pounding heavily in his chest, but the blood doesn’t seem to reach very far. He feels cold and numb, as waves of shock crashes over him. His ears are ringing. 

 

_Snape._

 

It was Snape who had overheard the prophecy. It was Snape who had carried the news of the prophecy to Voldemort. Snape had sent Voldemort to the doorstep of Lily and James Potter and their son… _Snape had got his parents killed…_ It was all because of Snape, _all of it…_ his parents dying, having to grow up with the Dursleys, having to hunt horcruxes with Dumbledore and eventually kill Voldemort, _it’s all because of Snape…_

 

”Harry?” 

 

”I have to go”, Harry mumbles and turns on his heel. 

 

”But — Harry? — Harry! I thought we were going to see the Headmaster together!”

 

Harry doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t turn around. Yes, he has an urgent meeting with Dumbledore. But right now, he needs to see Snape. He needs to see him. He needs to — he isn’t sure, maybe he needs to hear _from him_ , maybe he needs to look Snape in the eyes and hear it confirmed — or maybe he needs to hear it denied…

 

He starts running again, faster and faster, his footsteps echoing loudly around him, his heart beating near his Adam’s apple. He hurtles down the steps to the dungeons and crashes against the door of Snape’s private quarters, banging hard on the wood as he catches his breath. 

 

He waits, listens intently over the noise of his own breathing, but can’t hear a thing. 

 

 _Fuck,_ he swears quietly to himself. He bangs on the door a couple of more times, but he’s already way too late for his meeting with Dumbledore and finally he gives up and doubles back. 

 

He bellows the password at the Gargoyle and takes the spiral staircase three steps at a time. He bangs on the door just as aggressively as he’d banged on Snape’s door, but barely waits for Dumbledore’s calm _Enter_ before he flings himself inside. 

 

”Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me”, Dumbledore says by way of greeting as he turns his back to the sunset to peer over his halfmoon spectacles at Harry. 

 

For a moment, Harry is confused. The conversation with Trelawney and his anger at Snape has driven everything else away from his mind. 

 

”Come… with you…?”

 

”If you still wish to come, of course.”

 

”If I…” 

 

And then it all comes flooding back to him, why he’d been so eager to come to Dumbledore’s office in the first place. 

 

”You’ve found one? You’ve found a horcrux?”

 

”I believe so”, the old man says with a gentle incline of his head. 

 

Shock and excitement fights the rage and resentment already pushing at his seams, and for a moment Harry is too overwhelmed to speak. 

 

”It is natural to be afraid”, Dumbledore says kindly. 

 

”I’m not scared!” Harry scoffs at once, because out of all the emotions currently at war inside him, fear is not one. Still boiling with anger, and with his adrenalin spiking, Harry feels the need to do something rash and risky. ”I’m coming!”

 

”What’s happened?” Dumbledore says, a frown of worry creeping onto his face. 

 

”Nothing. Let’s go—”

 

”Harry. What’s upset you?”

 

”Snape!” Harry barks finally. ” _Snape’s_ what happened! _He_ told Voldemort about the prophecy, didn’t he? Don’t lie to me, Professor Trelawney has already told me what happened! It was him! He was listening at the door, she told me!”

 

Dumbledore’s expression never wavers, except perhaps a sad glint in his eye as he regards Harry quietly. 

 

”When did you finf out about this?” he asks at last. 

 

”Just now! AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE! HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HER AND YOU SENT ME TO STAY WITH HIM OVER THE SUMMER AND GET TO KNOW HIM AND I STARTED TO — TO — ”

 

Harry swallows down the admission and turns away, balling his hands into fists he starts counting backwards from ten. 

 

”Harry, please listen to me”, Dumbledore says quietly when he gets to _four._ ”Professor Snape made a terrible—”

 

”Don’t tell me it was a mistake—!”

 

”Please let me finish. Professor Snape made a terrible mistake. He was still in Lord Voldemort’s employ on the night he heard the first half of Professor Trelawney’s prophecy. Naturally he hastened to tell his master what he’d heard, for it concerned his master most deeply. But he did not know — he had no way of knowing — which boy Voldemort would hunt from then onwards, or that the parents he would destroy were people that Snape knew, that they were your mother and father …”

 

With a stab of pain, Harry remembers the story of the weird little loner boy who became best friends with the beautiful and popular muggle-born girl… 

 

”You have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realised how Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry…” Dumbledore continues. 

 

 _We never made up_ , Snape had said in his emotionless voice, but there had been a look of pain on his face that he tried to hide behind a curtain of greasy hair. _I never saw her alive again. But not a day goes by when I don’t think of her. I loved her._

 

Harry swallows down a mouthful of bile and shakes his head. It’s too much. He can’t deal with it right now. Not if he’s going to go with Dumbledore on one of his dangerous trips and try and find a horcrux. 

 

”I can’t —”

 

He shakes his head again and takes a deep breath. Dumbledore seems to understand however and nods with a sad smile. 

 

”Do you still wish to come with me tonight, Harry?”

 

”Yes”, Harry says at once. 

 

 

*

 

 

 

The heavy smell of salt water and the sting of the night-chilled sea breeze vanish suddenly and Harry knows, even before opening his eyes again, that he’s succeeded in Disapparating from the cliff outside the cave, and with Dumbledore’s half-unconscious form still weighing him down as well. Taking a steadying deep breath he opens his eyes to the familiar sight of Hogsmeade’s High Street and feels a jolt of relief. Disapparating is one thing after all, but if he’d managed to land Dumbledore and himself in some unknown place instead of Hogsmeade, then who knows what he’d have done… 

 

”We did it, Professor!” he whispers eagerly. ”We did it! We got the Horcrux, and escaped the Inferi!”

 

He shivers violently as a gust of wind suddenly hits him and presses his ice-cold, dripping robes harder against his body. Dumbledore staggers against him, as though the gust had pushed him over. 

 

”Sir? Are you alright?” Harry asks, studying the old man’s pale face with worry. 

 

”I’ve been better”, Dumbledore says weakly, with a subtle twitch of his lips. ”That potion… was no health drink…”

 

Then suddenly, Dumbledore goes limp and sinks to the ground. Harry grabs a hold of his arms and tries to pull him up again, horrified when the old man’s eyel lids flicker behind his halfmoon spectacles. 

 

”Sir — it’s okay, Sir, you’re going to be all right, don’t worry —!”

 

Harry looks around in panic, but Hogsmeade is dead to the world. He knows he needs to get Dumbledore to the hospital wing immediately, but it’s impossible to Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds and Dumbledore is way too heavy for Harry to carry, or even support partially all the way up to the castle. Already the man is slipping from his grip. Harry tries to hoist him up again, clutching at his shoulders desperately. 

 

”Sir”, he pants. ”We need to get you to the school… Madam Pomfrey… she’ll be able to help—”

 

”No”, Dumbledore moans. ”It is Professor Snape whom I need… But I do not think I can walk very far just yet…”

 

”Right”, Harry says and finally gives up and lets the man slump completely on the ground. ”Alright, Sir, listen, I’m going to go knock on a door, find you a place to stay, then I can run and get Madam Pom—”

 

”Severus”, Dumbledore interrupts him, voice stronger already. ”I need Severus.”

 

”All right fine, Snape then”, Harry relents, even though the thought of seeing the man makes his stomach churn, because even after everything that’s happened this evening, he still remembers what Trelawney told him. 

 

He’s not ready to face Snape yet, but Dumbledore seems adament about it so that leaves Harry with little choice really. 

 

”I’ll go get Snape, but I’m going to have to leave you for a moment so I can —”

 

But before Harry can make a move, he hears running footsteps and his heart leaps in his chest: someone has seen them after all, someone is coming to help — and looking around he sees Madam Rosmerta running down the street in high-heeled, fluffy slippers, her silk dressing-gown flapping around her. 

 

”I saw you Apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains!” she pants heavily as she approaches them. ”Thank goodness! Thank goodness you’re here, I couldn’t think what to do — but what’s wrong with Albus?”

 

”He’s hurt”, Harry says shortly as she thunders to a stop next to them. ”Madam Rosmerta, can he come inside the Three Broomsticks while I go up to the school and get help for him?”

 

”You can’t go up there alone! Don’t you realise — haven’t you seen —?”

 

”If you just help me support him”, Harry says, not really listening to what she’s saying. ”I think we can get him inside —”

 

”What has happened?” Dumbledore asks suddenly alert once more. ”Rosmerta, what’s wrong?”

 

”The — the Dark Mark, Albus!”

 

Harry feels his stomach drop and dread chill his already ice-cold skin. Following Madam Rosmerta’s trembling finger as it points towards Hogwarts, he slowly turns his head and what he sees makes what little sensation he had left in body go completely numb. 

 

There, hovering next to a crenel in the Astronomy Tower, the highest tower of the castle, like an ominous cloud, hung The Dark Mark, highlighted by magical lightening… the mark that the Death Eaters left behind whenever thet’d entered a building, whenever they’d murdered…

 

” _Oh no_ ”, Harry breathed out, as images of dead DA members and professors flitted through his mind, and one professor in particular, no matter how much Harry tried to dismiss him, kept coming back. 

 

”When did it appear?” Dumbledore asks Madam Rosmerta and digs his fingers into Harry’s shoulder painfully and hoists himself up to standing again, and although he sways precariously on the spot and Harry can tell his hand his trembling where it stays clenched over his shoulder, the old man’s eyes have become sharp once again. 

 

”Can’t have been more than a few minutes!” Madam Rosmerta says. 

 

”We need to return to the castle at once”, Dumbledore says. ”We need transport. Rosmerta. Brooms —?”

 

”I’ve got a couple behind the bar!” She exclaims and starts to turn back towards the Three Broomsticks. 

 

”No, Harry can get them”, Dumbledore says and nudges his shoulder. 

 

” _Accio Rosmerta’s brooms_ ”, Harry says clearly. 

 

Within seconds the front door of the pub slams open and two broomsticks comes racing through the air before they stop dead next to Harry. Dumbledore mounts one of them gingerly and tells Rosmerta to hurry back inside and send a message to the Ministry. 

 

”Harry, you better put your Invisibility Cloak on”, he instructs, before kicking off. 

 

Harry hurries to drape the Cloak over himself, before quickly soaring after Dumbledore in the dark. Dumbledore flew straight to the Astronomy Tower and dismounted his broomstick in the crenellated ramparts, his white hair and beard illuminated slightly by the green tint of the Dark Mark on the sky outside. Harry jumps off his own broom seconds later and looks around anxiously, expecting to see the dead body of… _someone, anyone — Severus — anyone…_ But the ramparts are deserted. 

 

The door to the spiral staircase leading down from the Tower is closed and there’s no sign of a struggle or anything. The relief Harry felt for a second is over just as quickly however when he turns to look at Dumbledore and catches him frowning in pain, his blackened hand clutching at his chest. 

 

”Go and wake Severus”, he says faintly. ”Tell him what’s happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, talk to no-one and do not remove your Cloak. I will wait here — ”

 

”But — ”

 

”You swore to obey me, Harry! — Go!”

 

But as soon as Harry has taken a step towards the door, running footsteps can be heard from the other side. Dumbledore gestures for him to retreat again, and Harry does, drawing his wand carefully under the Cloak as he backs away. 

 

The door bursts open and with a shouted _Expelliarmus_ Draco Malfoy tumbles through it. Harry’s body goes rigid and he falls back against the Tower wall, propped up like a useless statue, unable to move or speak and gripped by confusion; Expelliarmus isn’t a Freezing Charm, so why —

 

Gazing sideways over at Dumbledore, Harry catches the old man’s wand fly out of his hand and topple over the edge of the crenel, and he understands what must have happened — Dumbledore had immobilised him wordlessly, and the second he had taken to perform the spell had cost him his only chance of defending himself against Malfoy. 

 

”Good evening, Draco…” Dumbledore says and leans back against the ramparts calmly. 

 

Malfoy glances around quickly, then his eyes land on the second broom. 

 

”Who else is here?” he demands. 

 

”I might ask you the same thing”, Dumbledore says. ”Or are you acting alone, Draco?”

 

”No, I’ve got back-up”, Malfoy says, his gaze flitting back to the Headmaster once more. ”There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight.”

 

Harry can’t decide if the look on Malfoy’s face is fear or excitement, but knowing the boy it’s probably a mix of both. 

 

”Well, well”, Dumbledore says, sounding genuinely impressed. ”Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?”

 

”Yeah, right under your nose and you never realised!”

 

”Ingenious. Yet, forgive me, where are they now? You seem a little unsupported…”

 

”They met some of your guard, but they’ll be along… I just decided to come on ahead, you see, I’ve got a j-job to do.”

 

”Well, then, you must get on with it then, my deat boy”, Dumbledore says softly. 

 

Harry stares incredulously at him. The old man’s eyes even seem to twinkle, despite the distinct frown of pain and exhaustion. And then, incredibly, a small smile twitches into place in the green-tinted beard. Harry glances over at Malfoy again, who looks as scandalised as Harry himself feels. 

 

”Draco, Draco”, Dumbledore says gently. ”You are not a killer.”

 

”How do you know?” Malfoy demands at once and Harry gets the sense that he isn’t merely being contrary, _he actually wants to know,_ but catching himself he shakes his head slightly and continues. ”You don’t know what I’m capable of, you don’t know what I’ve done!”

 

”Oh, yes, I do”, Dumbledore says, almost kindly. ”You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts… so feeble in fact that I wonder if your heart has really been in it…”

 

”It has been in it!” Malfoy growls. ”I’ve been working on it all year, and finally tonight —!”

 

A muffled yell can suddenly be heard from somewhere in the castle, and Malfoy stiffens and looks over his shoulder towards the door. Dumbledore also looks towards the door and remarks on the fight going on downstairs as though he was talking about the weather. Malfoy barely seems to hear him though, too pre-occupied with listening for approaching footsteps most likely.  

 

”Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone”, Dumbledore suggests then. ”What if your back-up has been thwarted by my guard? There are members of the Order of the Phoenix present at the castle tonight. And after all, you hardly need help… I have no wand at the moment, I cannot defend myself…”

 

When Malfoy says nothing, but merely stares at Dumbledore — _definitely more fear than excitement in his eyes now,_ Harry notices — Dumbledore smiles again, but it is definitely pained now. 

 

”I see”, he murmurs. ”You are afraid to act until they join you—”

 

”I’m not afraid!” Malfoy growls. ”It is you who should be scared!”

 

”But why? I don’t think you’ll kill me, Draco… You see, killing isn’t nearly as easy as the innocent believe… So tell me, while we wait for your friends, how did you manage to smuggle them into the castle?”

 

Malfoy finally tells Dumbledore about mending a broken Vanishing Cabinet — the one Montague got lost in the year before — and how it had a twin in _Borgin and Burke’s_ and when working properly, as it now finally did, the two Cabinets acted as a kind of passage-way. Harry simply stares at the other boy. _The Cabinet,_ he thinks incredulously. _It was the Cabinet all this time!_

 

”And when it looked like you might not be able to mend the broken one in the Room of Requirement, you resorted to more crude, and badly judged means, such as sending me a cursed necklace that was bound to get into the wrong hands, and poisoning a bottle of mead that there was only the slightest of chance that I might actually drink…”

 

”Yeah, well, you still didn’t know who was behind all that stuff, did you?”

 

”As a matter of fact, I did”, Dumbledore murmurs. ”I was sure it was you.”

 

”Why didn’t you stop me then?” Malfoy demands, and Harry silently agrees. 

 

”I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders —”

 

”He hasn’t been doing _your_ orders, he promised my mother —!”

 

”Of course that is what he would _tell you_ , Draco, but —”

 

Harry’s heart leaps in his chest. _Doesn’t Dumbledore know about the Unbreakable Vow?_  

 

_He must know!_

 

 _Yes, he knows, because Snape told him. Snape went and told him all about it, that same night_ , Harry thinks desperately, but a small part of him is screaming in doubt. 

 

”He’s a double-agent, you stupid old man”, Malfoy exclaims. ”He isn’t working for you, you just _think_ he is!”

 

 _No_ , Harry thinks in panic. _No no no, that’s not true. Malfoy just thinks so._

 

But then he remembers what Trelawney told him. 

 

_Snape told Voldemort about the prophecy, it’s his fault my parents are dead. It’s all his fault._

 

And then Sirius voice trickles into his inner tirade, _No-one ever stops being a Death Eater…_

 

_Oh Merlin… What if… Maybe —_

 

”—I trust Professor Snape”, Dumbledore tells Malfoy — and probably Harry too — clearly, even as his body is slowly slumping further and further down the wall. 

 

Malfoy who just sneers back at him, ”Well then, you’re losing your grip, old man!”

 

 

_Maybe, maybe, maybe_

 

_No-one ever stops being a Death Eater_

 

 

”You must have had an accomplice, someone in Hogsmeade”, Dumbledore changes the subject. ”Ah, of course… Rosmerta… The Imperius Curse?”

 

”Got there at last, have you?” Malfoy taunts. 

 

He then tells Dumbledore that he’s been using enchanted coins to keep in touch with the pub owner, an idea he’d got from the DA. 

 

There’s suddenly a loud bang and shouts coming from below, louder than the muffled noises of before, as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase leading up to the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy whips his head back round and stares over at the door, his pale drawn face almost ashen with fear now. 

 

”There is little time, one way or another”, Dumbledore says. ”So let us discuss your options, Draco…”

 

” _My_ options!” Malfoy says shrilly and whips his head back round again and stares at Dumbledore as though he’d just asked him to the Yule Ball. ” _I’m_ standing here with _my wand_ — I’m about to _kill you_ — !”

 

”My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”

 

”I haven’t got any options!” Malfoy says, his voice suddenly raw and his eyes distinctly desperate. ”I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!”

 

”I can help you Draco…”

 

”No, you can’t”, Malfoy says, his wand hand shaking and his eyes filling up with tears. ”Nobody can. He told me to do it or he’ll kill me. I’ve got no choice.”

 

”Come over to the right side, Draco and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What more, I can send members of the Order of the Phoenix to your mother tonight to hide her as well. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban, but when the time comes we can protect him too… Draco, you are not a killer…”

 

”But I got this far”, Malfoy says slowly. ”They all thought I’d die in the attempt, but here I am. And you… you’re at my mercy —”

 

”No, Draco”, Dumbledore says quietly, but clearly. ”It is my mercy, not yours, that matters now.”

 

Malfoy’s wand hand is shaking more than ever, and he stares silently at Dumbledore as a couple of tears tumble over his lashes and splatter against his porcelain white cheeks. Then, ever so slowly, he starts to lower his wand —

 

Suddenly, footsteps are thundering up the stairs and before Malfoy has had a chance to react, he’s thrust aside by four people in black robes. Harry stares in mute horror as the four Death Eaters line up in a threatening semi-circle in front of Dumbledore. Dumbledore greets them mildly, and the stocky little woman titters angrily. 

 

”Do it”, the strangers nearest to Harry growls at Malfoy. 

 

”Is that you, Fenrir?” Dumbledore asks politely. 

 

”That’s right”, the wild-looking man says with a leer. ”Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

 

”No, I cannot say that I am…”

 

”But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore!”

 

Harry stares in horror as the large man reveals his pointed teeth in a mocking smile that is more of a grimace than anything else. _Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who turned Remus Lupin_ , he thinks with start. 

 

”Am I to take it that you are now attacking even without the full moon? That is most unusual… I am also a little shocked that Draco here invited you of all people into the school where his friends live…”

 

”I didn’t”, Malfoy says in a small voice, clearly avoiding looking at the werewolf. ”I didn’t know he was going to come —”

 

”I wouldn’t want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore”, Greyback rasps. ”Not when there are throats to be ripped out… delicious…”

 

 _”They’ve blocked the stairs — Reducto! REDUCTO!”_ someone suddenly shouts from downstairs and the scuffle of fighting resumes. 

 

Harry’s heart leaps again and hope surges in his chest, as he realises that these four Death Eaters haven’t overpowered the Order, they’d simply broken free of the fight altogether and escaped up to the Tower, after barricating the stairs somehow. But that means there’s still hope. The Order might still win, might still get up here in time —

 

”Now, Draco, quickly!” 

 

”I’ll do it —!”

 

”I said no! We’ve got orders. Draco’s got to do it! — Now, Draco, do it now —!”

 

The door to the ramparts suddenly bursts open for the third time and framed in the dim light from the staircase stands Snape — and despite everything that Harry has learned about the man this evening, and despite the doubt that was crowding his mind only moments ago, as soon as he catches sight of that familiar silhouette and those billowing robes — his mind instinctively screams in joy and hope swells once more in his chest.

 

Snape has his wand at the ready, his keen black eyes takes one sweeping look at the scene, then settles on Dumbledore who seems to sag in relief. If Harry hadn’t been petrified still, he is sure he’d be sobbing with relief as well. 

 

”We’ve got a problem, Snape”, the lumpy Death Eater says. ”The boy doesn’t seem able —”

 

” _Severus…_ ” another voice, though soft and weakened, interrupts him. 

 

Everyone’s eyes immediately flick over to the Headmaster, who is now trembling with the effort to remain upright. 

 

Snape says nothing, but walks forward without breaking eye contact with the Headmaster. He pushes Malfoy roughly aside and stands right in front of Dumbledore. The Death Eaters all hang back wordlessly, as though cowed by Snape’s presence, even the werewolf who seems to shrink back into the shadows. 

 

For a moment, it seems as though everyone, including Harry, is holding their breath —

 

Snape’s face is a mask, but his eyes are glittering, _flashing_ —

 

”Severus, please…”

 

_”Avada Kedavra!”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have promised a couple of you a kiss in the next chapter... I am sticking to that promise!


	19. Dreams and nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry stares in mute horror as Dumbledore’s body is thrust into the air by the force of Snape’s curse, its green light frighteningly familiar to Harry whose nightmares tend to get the same tint, and a horrified scream wrenches itself free from deep within him and tears through his throat like a barbed wire before it’s swallowed by the commotion of the Death Eaters as they cackle and clap their hands.

 

Harry stares in mute horror as Dumbledore’s body is thrust into the air by the force of Snape’s curse, its green light frighteningly familiar to Harry whose nightmares tend to get the same tint, and a horrified scream wrenches itself free from deep within him and tears through his throat like a barbed wire before it’s swallowed by the commotion of the Death Eaters as they cackle and clap their hands.

 

For a split-second, Snape stays frozen on the spot, staring out into the empty darkness where Dumbledore’s body had hung arched for a mere second before plummeting to the ground below. But then he seems to shake himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in and grabs Draco roughly by the scruff of his neck and pushes him in front of him down the spiral staircase ahead of the rest of the Death Eaters, while yelling at them to follow quickly. They immediately obey and soon they’re all thundering down the staircase, still cackling in triumph, leaving Harry completely alone in the Astronomy Tower. 

 

He is vaguely aware of a wailing noise, but it isn’t until he has to gasp for breath and the noise stops that he realises that it’d come from _him_. At that realisation, along with the fact that when his knees finally give out from underneath him he can sink to the floor without Dumbledore’s spell holding him in place, he knows it’s true; Dumbledore _really is dead._

 

”No —!” He screams. 

 

Then struggling to his feet, he summons all the rage he has inside of him as though summoning the Devil himself and lets it fill him up completely, pushing grief so far into the back that he doesn’t have to deal with it — anger is easier, so much easier — and it drives him into action. 

 

Without thinking about what he’s doing, Harry starts running down the spiral staircase, taking the steps first two at a time, then three and finally leaping the last ten and jumping over a body lying slumped at the bottom; he can’t see who it is in the darkness, and he doesn’t stop to check if whoever it is is dead or merely stunned, _there’s no time; he has to catch Snape…_ That’s the only rational thought going through his head now, _Get Snape, Get Snape…_

 

He skids round a corner, his trainers slippery with blood, but all he can think about is the immense head-start that Snape has now — _what if he and Malfoy have already reached the Cabinet in the Room of Requirement? —_ he hears nothing except the pounding of his own feet, chasing the beatings of his frantic heart… then suddenly he spots a bloody footprint… heading _away_ from the Room of Requirement… _Maybe the Order have blocked the Room of Requirement_ , he thinks hopefully and sprints towards the Entrance Hall instead. 

 

He skids around another corner as a curse flies past him. Catching sight of two of the Death Eaters from the Tower, the brother and sister, ahead of him on the marble staircase, he aims several jinxes at them but hits a portrait on the landing instead. Harry pelts towards a shortcut, hoping to overtake the brother and sister, and catch up with Snape and Malfoy who surely must have reached the grounds by now…

 

Remembering to leap over the vanishing step halfway down the staircase, Harry throws himself through the tapestry at the bottom and bursts through on the other side, scaring a group of pyjama-clad Hufflepuffs hovering around the corridor nervously. 

 

”Harry! We heard a noise and someone said something about the Dark Mark —” Ernie Macmillan begins. 

 

”Out of the way!” Harry bellows and shoves past him, knocking over two of his friends and then hurtles down the remainder of the marble staircase. 

 

The oak front doors have been blasted open and Harry flies across the Entrance Hall and stumbles outside, the cold night air shocking him for a split-second and he gasps för breath, staring wildly around him. 

 

He can just make out three dark figures racing across the lawn towards the gates, beyond which Harry knows they’ll be able to Disapparate, _and then it will be too late…_

 

A sudden flash of light in the distance silhouettes the Death Eaters up ahead, followed by shouts and more jets of light. Hagrid has come out of his hut and is trying to stop the Death Eaters from escaping… _No_ , Harry thinks desperately, _not Hagrid… not Hagrid too…_ and despite the stitch in his chest, Harry picks up his pace further. 

 

Suddenly something hits him in the back of the head and he flies forward, blood bursts from both his nostrils and he realises that the brother and sister that he’d managed to overtake were now closing in on him —

 

He turns to his back and throws an _Impedimenta_ jinx behind him at random, miraculously hitting one of them who immediately stumbles and falls, tripping the other one. Harry doesn’t take the time to feel victorious however, he instantly scrambles to his feet and continues to run, almost tripping over his own feet several times, but he keeps going as though possessed — _must get Snape…_

 

The third Death Eater has stopped by Hagrid’s hut and is aiming curse after curse at the gamekeeper, but the half-giant’s strength and thick skin seems to protect him; Snape and Malfoy keep running, however and they’re nearly at the gates now —

 

” _Snape!_ SNAPE —!” Harry screams and the sihouetted form of the former Potions Master visibly startles, but when he continues to run without as much as a backward glance Harry takes aim at his back and yells _”Stupefy!”_

 

But he misses, the jet of red light soars past Snape’s head —

 

” _Run, Draco!_ ” Snape bellows, before finally stopping and turning to look back at Harry. 

 

Harry keeps running towards him, allowing the rage to fuel him. Snape stays stock still, but raises his wand cautiously. 

 

” _Cruc_ —!” Harry starts, but Snape parries the curse and knocks Harry backwards off his feet before he can finish it. 

 

He rolls over and quickly scrambles to his feet again, nearly tripping over since his legs are shaking so badly; his whole body is shaking, exhaustion and adrenaline and _pure rage_ running through his limbs like electric currents… 

 

” _Incendio!_ ” one of the Death Eaters behind Harry yells and with an explosive bang Hagrid’s hut is set ablaze. 

 

”Fang’s in there ye evil —!” Hagrid screams. 

 

Harry forces his friend’s voice out of his mind. He can’t allow himself to be distracted, not now. Raising his wand against Snape again, Harry yells ” _Cruc —_!”

 

But Snape blocks the curse for a second time, and Harry imagines he can see him sneer in the orange glow from the fire. 

 

”Fight back!” Harry screams, sobs. ”Fight back, you fucking bastard! He trusted you! I trusted —!”

 

Harry’s voice breaks pitifully and he sobs again. Snape is staring at him silently, his face deathly pale and the shadows stretched eerily from the glow of the fire. He stands completely still, and if not for the slight tremours of tension in his body he might as well have been a statue. _A hideous, horrible statue_ , Harry thinks hysterically as another sob wrenches itself out of his throat. 

 

”You saw”, Snape says after a second’s shocked silence, and Harry couldn’t have interpreted his tone even he’d wanted to. 

 

”Yes, _I saw!_ ” Harry bellows furiously. ”I saw what you did, you evil bastard! He was defenceless! _You coward —_ You k-killed him _—_ I _—_ I hate you! _I HATE YOU—!_ ” 

 

Suddenly Snape kills the distance between them in three swift strides and as his face swims out of the darkness and looms in front of Harry, eyes glittering like black bottomless pools, Harry is momentarily thrown by the look of pure _anguish_ that is suddenly etched there… But it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared and Harry almost believes he imagined it, because staring back at him now is the same indifferent man who killed Dumbledore in _cold blood_ right before his eyes. 

 

”How _could you_ —?” he gasps miserably, _please let there be some explanation, please_ , he thinks desperately. 

 

”You weren’t supposed to have witnessed it”, Snape says. 

 

Harry stares. And gapes. And blinks dumbly, because _what the hell…_

 

”I don’t expect you to understand”, Snape continues in an urgent undertone, glancing over Harry’s shoulder quickly, a hint of stress trickling through the otherwise perfect mask. ”And there is no time…”

 

”W-What —!” Harry yelps. ”I understand just fine! I saw the whole thing! You’re a fucking coward —!”

 

Snape’s eyes flash dangerously at Harry. 

 

” _Don’t_ call me a _coward_! NO—!” he adds hurriedly to someone just behind Harry, but too late. 

 

Excruciating pain hits Harry and he keels over in the grass; someone is screaming; _this is it, this is death_ , he thinks, _surely there’s no way out of this agony?_

 

Just as suddenly as the pain hit him, it vanishes again and Harry curls up on the ground and heaves.

 

”— told you, Potter belongs to the Dark Lord”, Snape is bellowing angrily. ”We are to leave him! Just go! _Go!_ ”

 

Harry blinks the tears out of his eyes and gasps for breath, then mustering all of his strength he pushes himself to his feet once more, but nearly topples over immediately. Snape seems to _twitch_ with an impulse to to move forward… _to what? help me up?_ Harry thinks derisively and feels sick. To think there was a time when that possibility had seemed the most plausible to him. 

 

Fresh tears well up in Harry’s eyes. Reminded of Snape’s true loyalty and his many betrayals, he summons enough rage to stagger a few steps closer to the man and raises his wand blindly through his tears, ” _Sectum—_ ”

 

But Snape flicks his wand as effortlessly as if he were swatting at a fly and Harry’s own wand goes flying out of his hand and disappears into the darkness. 

 

”No, Potter!” Snape screams at him. ”You _will not_ use my own spells against me! Oh yes, _I_ am the Half-Blood Prince — _and you_ , you would turn my own inventions against me, just like your filthy father! I don’t think so!”

 

”Kill me, then”, Harry pants. ”Kill me like you _killed him_ , you coward—!”

 

”DON’T —” screams Snape, his face suddenly demented, almost inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the howling dog still stuck inside the burning hut behind them. ”—CALL ME COWARD!”

 

He makes a slashing movement with his wand and Harry feels a whiplike sensation of pain hit him across the face and he slams backwards to the ground. No sooner has he connected with the ground however than Snape has yet again killed the distance between them. He grabs Harry roughly by the front of his robes and pulls him up to sitting, his face pressing close to Harry’s — 

 

They stare into each other’s eyes for a second that spans a lifetime —

 

”I hate you”, Harry gasps finally.

 

The dark eyes flashes dangerously at him and Harry flinches. _Now he’ll kill me_ , he thinks. 

 

But Snape doesn’t kill him. Instead he tucks his wand away completely. _Probably to rid himself of the temptation_ , Harry thinks. 

 

”Good”, Snape snarls. ”Hate me! You _should_ hate me!”

 

Then suddenly, he pulls Harry even closer, until their faces are mere inches apart and with a shudder Harry feels the man’s lips brush his cheek as he hisses in his ear, ”If you ever cared about me, in any way, you’ll stay away from me now, Harry…”

 

He then lets go of Harry’s robes just as roughly as he’d grabbed them and Harry sprawls on the ground for a second before he’s managed to scramble to his feet again. 

 

”I — I can’t believe I ever trusted you!” Harry cries with angry tears streaming down his face. 

 

”You _can_ trust me”, Snape says quietly but clearly. ”And you can trust Dumbledore.”

 

”W-What—?” Harry splutters incredulously. 

 

”It will all make sense in the end, but for now… just… _please_ , stay away Harry…”

 

Harry stares in shock as the man’s eyes seem to implore with him for another split-second, and then before Harry has a chance to think or say anything else, Snape has turned around and the darkness has swallowed him up.

 

Harry is vaguely aware of Hagrid yelling and Fang howling, he staggers a few steps, feeling exhaustion finally start to seep into his bones. _Not yet_ , he tells himself. _I can’t rest yet, I need to get to Dumbledore_ …

 

Harry moves through the crowd as though moving in a dream, the air thick like water around his legs and his heart hammering wildly in his chest… he breaks away from the others and continues until reaches Dumbledore’s lifeless body and crouches down next to it. He’d known the second Dumbledore’s Body-Bind Curse lifted that the man was dead, the only thing that would stop a Curse expect a Counter-Curse, but still he’d not been prepared for this… Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of all time, lying spread-eagled and broken on the ground like some disgarded puppet. 

 

In a daze, Harry becomes aware of something hard under one of his knees and picks it up. It’s the locket. But as soon as Harry looks at it, he knows something’s wrong. It’s smaller than the locket he’d seen in Dumbledore’s Pensieve and the ornate S is missing from the front. Opening it, Harry sees a bit of folded parchment wedged into place where a portrait should have been. _It’s the wrong locket,_ he thinks numbly. _It was all for nothing_ … 

 

Somewhere in the darkness, a Phoenix starts singing — but it is unlike any phoenix song Harry has ever heard before, instead of filling him with hope and joy, this lament fills him instead with grief and he thinks of Fawkes and feels his eyes well up with tears once more — _and all for nothing,_ he thinks again. 

 

The next few days pass in a blur, and suddenly Harry is sitting in another, bigger crowd staring in horror at a shiny white tomb as Hagrid carries Dumbledore’s body wrapped in purple velvet down the aisle, his big giant face shining with silent tears. 

 

Different wizards and witches from all over the world take turns talking about Dumbledore, but their words mean nothing to Harry. He lets his mind wander as he looks out across the lake, it’s surface broken by hundreds of merpeople’s heads as they too pay their respect to the great wizard. 

 

Afterwards, Harry finds himself walking away with quick, long strides and tries to tell himself _he isn’t running away exactly_ , but he doesn’t really believe himself… Ron and Hermoine catch up with him and he finally tells them that he won’t be returning to Hogwarts after the summer. 

 

”I knew you were going to say that”, Hermoine says with a sigh. ”What will you do?”

 

He gives a tense half-shrug, willing the image of Snape’s ghostly face out of his mind even as his parting words seem to be echoeing around him, as they have done ever since that night. 

 

”I thought maybe I’d go back to Godric’s Hollow, you know”, he says stiffly. ”Where it all started. And I can visit my parents’ graves…”

 

”And then what?” Ron says, looking warily at him as though scared of what his answer might be.

 

”Then I’ve got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes haven’t I”, Harry says with a confidence he doesn’t actually feel. ”If Dumbledore was right — and I believe he was — there are still four of them out there, and I’ve got to find them and destroy them before I can go after the seventh bit of Voldemort’s soul —”

 

”T-The seventh b-bit —?” Ron says, his freckles standing out more than ever against his suddenly pale face. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry says bracingly. ”The one in his body. You know it has to be me that kills him. And if I should happen to run into Snape along the way, well… so much the worse for him!”

 

 

*

 

 

Something large and silvery suddenly comes falling through the canvas of the canopy stretched over the dance-floor; it’s a Patronus in the shape of a lynx and as it lands lighlty in the middle of the astonished dancers, they all stop moving mid-dance and turn their heads curiously to stare at the magical creature that opens its mouth wide and starts to speak in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s booming, deep voice: 

 

_”The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”_

 

Harry and Hermione jump to their feet and draw their wands. The silver cat vanishes and silence spreads like a cold current across the dance-floor until suddenly someone screams. As if that had been the signal they were all waiting for, people immediately spring into action. The wedding guests are running in all directions, many Disapparating, and Harry and Hermione stare around wildly for a hint of red hair —

 

”Ron! Where’s Ron —?” Hermione cries, half-sobbing as her and Harry are jostled from all sides by stampeding, terrified wedding guests. 

 

Harry grabs her hand firmly, so as not to lose her also in the crowd. 

 

Then Ron is there, grabbing Hermione’s other hand and suddenly all sight and sound are drowned by darkness, Harry is squeezed from all sides, his eyes pressed into his skull and he screws them shut —

 

The pressure builds and builds, Hermione’s hand slips from his and he flails desperately trying to find it again in the darkness, but there’s nothing, he’s all alone —

 

Pain pulses through him like electric currents, setting his every nerve ending on fire, his throat burns and he realises he must be screaming, but no sound escapes, none that he can hear anyway… Then just as suddenly as the pain had started, it stops —

 

He blinks tears from his eyes and pants for breath; a frightening, familiar face swims out of the darkness and looms in front of him, eyes glittering like black bottomless pools, flashing dangerously at him, and Harry gasps; strong, elegant fingers curl into the material of his robes and pulls him closer, closer, _closer_ — 

 

He feels hot breath on his face, tickling his cheek, and he shivers; _No,_ he thinks desperately, _not you, not you, you’re a traitor, you’re a murderer —_

 

A look of anguish, then the man’s lips brush Harry’s cheek 

 

 _”You_ should _hate me! But if you ever cared about me at all, in any way, you’ll stay away from me now, Harry…”_

 

The face blurs in front of Harry and no matter how much he blinks, he can’t get the man’s face back into focus. _Stupid tears,_ he thinks angrily and blinks harder. Nothing happens. But he can still make out the curtains of dark hair, the dark shadows around the eyes, lips pressed thin for a moment and then they seem to relax slightly… Harry can still feel the gentle puffs of air against his face as the man breathes… _so close_ … Harry feels his own lips tingle where the warm breaths land…

 

 _Harry,_ the man whispers and he doesn’t sound angry anymore, only urgent. Harry wishes he could see his eyes properly, so that he could read them. 

 

The warm gusts of air stop hitting Harry’s lips as though the man is now holding his breath. _But that doesn’t make any sense,_ Harry thinks… nor does it make sense for Harry to be missing the feeling. As if trying to chase the warmth, Harry cranes his neck and presses up… He just has time to see those dark eyes widen through the haze that is still invading his sight, before he lets his own eyes flutter closed, and gently purses his lips and presses them against 

 

A tiny gasp

 

Then thin, soft lips are moving slightly against his own chapped ones, _sliding, nudging, sucking_

 

A tiny whimper escapes Harry, and suddenly the body hovering above him freezes, the lips flinch back and press thin once more; Harry tries to chase them

 

” _Somnus”_

 

Harry really tries to chase them, to sit up, to blink the stupid fog from his eyes, but he feels suddenly heavy and before he knows it darkness has pulled him down once more…

 

Harry awakes with a gasp; for a moment he feels desorientated, the dream lingering around the edges of his mind still, and as he tries to blink the sleep from his eyes he realises why his vision is so blurry and immediately feels around on the floor for his glasses. 

 

As soon as he’s pushed them onto his face, the familiar texture of tent’s canvas wall comes into focus. 

 

He turns his head to look over at Ron’s bunk, but it’s empty. 

 

Then it all comes back to Harry, the huge row he had with Ron the night before… and then Ron leaving, Disapparating… Hermione crying herself to sleep in the chair… Harry turns his head the other way to see if she’s still there, but the chair is empty as well and for one horrible second Harry thinks maybe Hermione has left him too, but then he hears her moving around in the kitchen. 

 

Harry lies back against his pillow and takes a deep breath, trying to bring the dream back but it’s definitely gone. He reaches up and brushes his fingertips against his lips, imagining them to be kiss-swollen and smiles wryly to himself, _as if…_

 

While waiting for the misty sleepiness to completely disperse from his mind, he lets his head fall to the side lazily on the pillow and that’s when he sees it… Harry’s heart leaps into his throat and he quickly swings his legs round and heaves himself up to sitting. There, on the floor next to where his glasses had been only moments before, lies a book that Harry is sure wasn’t there the night before.

 

With slightly trembling fingers he reaches for it and lifts it slowly to his face and stares at the familiar, peeling cover. 

 

_Advanced Potion Making_

 

Harry starts shaking his head to himself, _it can’t be, must be Ron’s, or maybe —_  

 

He flips the book open and stares at the first page in horror: _”This book is the property of The Half-Blood Prince”_

 

”No…” he says in a strangled voice. 

 

”What’s that Harry?” Hermione’s dull voice calls from the kitchen. 

 

”N-Nothing!” he yells back quickly. 

 

Heart hammering wildly somewhere in the vicinity of his throat now, Harry glances down at the book again and lets his gaze travel further down the yellowed page, where a new addition has been added, darker than the original with its fresh ink but in similar swirly handwriting. _Snape’s handwriting_ , Harry realises and stares numbly at the new words: _”Happy 17th Harry”_

 

The book slips from Harry’s fingers and clatters to the floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know... but that was really the only way that kiss was going to happen at this point in the story, without straying too far away from the canon arc. There will be more kissing later on, and Harry will be aware that he's awake even. Promise. 
> 
> Please comment, it inspires me.


	20. Godric's Hollow

Hermione doesn’t look at him when he enters the kitchen area, nor does she say anything by way of greeting. Harry feels another twinge of guilt as he glimpses her puffy, red eyes. It’s the only thing that keeps him from mentioning his… _Dream?_

 

 _But, no. That’s the problem isn’t it?_ he thinks and slides into his usual seat at the kitchen table, his heart hammering a steady rhytm under his ribs and he moves slowly, with care, as if a sudden movement might frighten the nervous beast inside his ribcage and cause it to rip its way out of his body and flee. He shakes his head minutely to himself at the silly thought, keenly aware of Hermoine watching him discreetly through the corner of her eye. 

 

If only he could tell her. He’s _dying to._ Somehow, if he doesn’t say it aloud, he’s worried it’s never going to be really real. Then it might just has well have been a dream after all. 

 

But he can’t. How can he when she is struggling through her own heartbreak, and Harry is the cause of it? 

 

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and drops his gaze onto his plate of porridge when Hermione places it in front of him. 

 

They eat in silence. Then start to pack up their things, as per their usual routine — except this time Hermione is dawdling and Harry knows why. He catches her look up hopefully several times, sure she’s convinced herself she’s heard approaching footsteps through the spattering of heavy rain. But no red-haired figure appears amongst the trees. 

 

Finally, when she’s re-packed her beaded handbag three times already, Hermoine heaves a heavy sigh and grasps Harry’s hand and in the next moment they’ve Disapparated. 

 

As soon as their feet touch ground on the windswept hillside, Hermione drops Harry’s hand again and walks away from him. He watches her sink down on a rock and drop her head to her knees, and within seconds her whole back is shaking with what he knows must be sobs. 

 

He doesn’t approach her. Even though, if their roles had been reversed, he knows Hermione would never leave him alone. But that’s different, he knows. For one thing, Hermione always knew what to say to him when he was upset so her approaching him would actually help. 

 

 _And Hermoine’s never been the reason I’m upset in the first place_ , he thinks dully. 

 

He turns away to have a look around their new surroundings and starts putting up the Protective Shields around the new campsite, then erects the tent. He takes his time, glancing over at Hermione’s slumped form every once in a while. She seems to have stopped crying finally, but she makes no move to join Harry by the tent. He sighs to himself and goes inside. 

 

Unpacking his bag, he pulls out the Marauder’s Map to check and see if Ron’s dot has joined those of their classmates in Gryffindor Tower, mulishly convinced that the boy would have returned by now and is safe and sound within the castle’s walls, his _pureblood_ status assuring it.

 

” _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ …”

 

He scans the Map fervently, but he can’t find Ron anywhere. He checks all the classrooms as well, his heart leaping uncomfortably at the sight of _Draco Malfoy_ sitting in Charms like it’s a normal school year like any other… And then, with bated breath, Harry lets his gaze flicker over to the Headmaster’s Office — a small part of him hoping to see Professor McGonagall’s dot now residing in the Office that Harry will always think of as Dumbledore’s — but it isn’t McGonagall’s dot that’s pacing the floor of Dumbledore’s office…

 

”No”, he breathes out in disbelief. ” _No way_ …”

 

_Severus Snape_

 

He’s vaguely aware of the tent door flapping open and Hermione stepping inside, but he doesn’t look up to greet her. He stares at the tiny dot marked Severus Snape until his sight goes blurry, his heart seems to have found a new rhytm now and it seems to be chanting through his blood… _Snape, Snape, Snape_ … Harry draws a shaky breath when his head starts to get light and he realises he’s forgot to breathe. 

 

”Harry?” Hermione murmurs next to him, a note of anxiety in her voice. ”Is he there?”

 

”Yes”, Harry gasps, then realises she must mean Ron, he quickly tears his eyes away from the Map finally and turns to her. ”No! No, not Ron — sorry — I didn’t —”

 

”It’s okay”, she mutters. ”Who were you looking at —?”

 

Harry clamps his mouth shut and just shakes his head. He can’t bring himself to say it. He’s been dying to tell her all day, but now that the opportunity has presented itself he can’t bring himself to shape the first S even. Instead he holds the Map up and points at Dumbledore’s — _No_ , the Headmaster’s Office, _Snape’s_ office — and watches silently as she looks and waits for the outrage to appear in her face, hoping that it might anchor him, but it never comes. She just nods grimly. 

 

”Yeah, I thought he might”, she mutters and gives the Map back to Harry. 

 

”But —”

 

Hermione’s eyes flicker up to meet his and Harry realises with a jolt that it’s the first time they’ve actually looked at each other ever since they were talking about the Sword of Gryffindor, before the fight with Ron, before he left… Hermione’s eyes seem to bore into Harry now, and instinctively he puts his shields up, even though he knows rationally that Hermoine doesn’t even know how to _legilimens_ , and yet she frowns at him as though she _has_ seen something in his mind. 

 

”Harry, what it is?” she says suspisciously. 

 

He swallows thickly, then decides to show her. Bending back down over his bag on the floor, he digs out the Potions book that he shoved to the bottom when he was packing up, to deal with later… _Well, I guess it’s later,_ he thinks and places it with a thump on the table. 

 

Hermione’s frown deepens, ”But I thought —?”

 

”I did”, Harry says quickly. 

 

”You went back for it after all?” she says angrily. 

 

Harry scoffs, shaking his head, ”No. Hermione — I didn’t go back for it!”

 

”Then how did you get — ” she cuts herself off and stares in horror at him, the outrage he’d been hoping for slowly taking form in her face. ”Harry, _how did you get it?_ ”

 

”It was just there this morning, next to my bed — and I — well, I’d had this dream…”

 

” _Dream?_ ”

 

”Well, I thought it was a dream —”

 

Hermione’s eyes widen in horror.

 

”Not a vision!” he assures her quickly. ”It was… different…”

 

”Harry, what’s going on —?”

 

”It was Snape”, he says and then heaves in a deep breath as if uttering the man’s name out loud had winded him. ”Snape left the book for me.”

 

” _Snape?_ ” Hermione hisses. 

 

”I was dreaming, I was dreaming about him, about that night, and then he was there — I thought I was still dreaming! — But then he muttered something, a spell, and I felt really heavy and I guess I must have fallen back asleep because the next thing I know, it was morning and then I found this on the floor next to my bed…”

 

Hermione’s eyes have widen comically by the end of his rushed story and she looks completely white in the face. 

 

”There’s more”, he says, intent on getting it all out at once. ”Open it… Go on, first page…”

 

Hermione gasps. 

 

”I know”, Harry says. ”That certainly wasn’t there when I last saw the book… But I don’t understand. The Map never lies and he’s there, _look_ … He’s in Hogwarts… So _how_ —”

 

”It’s been hours”, Hermione says dismissively. ”Dumbledore left Hogwarts all the time… _But how did he find us_?”

 

”I don’t know”, Harry says, unease coiling in his stomach once more. ”Maybe Phineas? I don’t know.”

 

”Well, it’s a good thing we left”, Hermione says, her lower lip trembling slightly but she doesn’t start crying again, she looks determined. 

 

”Yeah”, Harry agrees. ”And let’s be more careful with that portrait from now on, just to be sure…”

 

Hermione nods in agreement, and the conversation tapers off after that although there is one more question that they haven’t asked themselves and Harry doesn’t even want to think about it himself, because when he does he starts thinking all sorts of treacherously hopeful things… and he can’t afford to be that weak, he tells himself. But all the same, the question remains, as a nagging ache at the back of his mind, coming out to taunt him late at night when it’s his turn to sleep… _If Snape found them, why didn’t he capture them? Why didn’t he bring Harry to Voldemort?_  

 

They don’t mention either Snape or Ron again for the next few days, in some unspoken agreement. Instead they devote their days to trying to determine possible locations for the Sword of Gryffindor, but the more they talk about it, the more far-fetched and ridiculous their speculations become; Harry can’t remember Dumbledore ever mentioning a hiding place of any sort… 

 

 _We thought you knew what you were doing,_ Ron’s words come back to mock him. _We thought Dumbledore must have told you something. We thought you had a real plan!_

 

Harry doesn’t know if he’s angrier with Ron or with Dumbledore anymore, but Ron had been right and Harry can’t deny it to himself anymore. Dumbledore had left him with virtually nothing to go on. All those meetings in his office, all those memories in the Pensieve _, and for what?_ Why didn’t he just _tell_ Harry everything he knew already? Instead of _wasting time_ — 

 

Harry clamps his hands over his head and forces those thoughts _out_. 

 

But the facts still remain, no matter how hard he clutches at his head. He knows nothing, he has no ideas, and he is on constant alert for any sign that Hermione might be about to leave him as well and it’s exhausting. 

 

They spend their evenings in near silence, partly because Hermione has taken to propping up the empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus on a chair as if to fill the void left by Ron and they don’t want to give away anything about their location, but partly as well because they didn’t really have much to say to each other anymore. Both of them lost in their own torturous thoughts of people that have betrayed and left them… 

 

 

*

 

With his heart beating in his throat, Harry opens his eyes. They’re standing hand in hand in a snowy lane under the dark blue sky, with cottages lining the narrow road and Christmas decorations twinkling here and there. 

 

”All this snow”, Hermione moans quietly next to him. ”Why didn’t we think of the snow! After all our precautions, and now we’ll leave footprints! Okay, okay, we’ll just have to get rid of them as we go — Harry — you go in front and I’ll —”

 

But Harry had no wish to enter his birthplace for the first time walking like a pantomime horse beneath his Invisibility Cloak, too caught up with trying to stay concealed and at the same time covering their tracks to really take in his surroundings. He wants to focus entirely on the place itself. He wants to walk into the village with his head held high — even though thanks to the Polyjuice, he’s wearing someone else’s head at the moment… 

 

”Let’s just take off the Cloak”, he says and at Hermione’s frightened look he adds, ”Come on, we don’t even look like ourselves and there’s no-one around anyway…”

 

Hermione finally agrees, and Harry stows the Cloak into his pocket. They walk silently down the road. Harry lets his gaze travel over each of the cottages they pass, thinking any one of these might be the one in which James and Lily Potter, and he for the first year of his life, had lived… and any one of them can be the one in which Bathilda Bagshot lives now… 

 

Muffled laughter can be heard as a pub door opens briefly, then it dies again as the door slams shut. A carol can be heard from a nearby little church, and Hermione clutches his arm suddenly. 

 

”Harry, I think it’s Christmas Eve!”

 

Harry follows her line of sight and nods in realisation. Weeks have gone by since he lost track of time, and travelling up and down the country didn’t help to keep track of the season either. His gaze falls on the small graveyard next to the church and his stomach lurches. 

 

”They’re in there, I suppose”, he says. ”My mum and dad.”

 

Hermione reaches for his hand again, and for a second Harry is worried she’s about to Disapparate them out of their already. But instead she tugs on his arm gently and leads the way over to the graveyard. The singing grows louder as they get nearer the church, Harry can just make out the words… _joyful and triumphant… oh come ye, oh come ye to Beth-le-hem…_ and he smiles a little to himself, remembering a slightly modified version of the same hymn — _Oh come all ye faithful Hippogriffs_ — that he first heard sung by Sirius when they celebrated Christmas together that one time in Grimmauld Place… That feels like an entire lifetime ago now, _several lifetimes_ , he thinks and the smile slips away again.

 

They side-step the entrance of the church and continue on to the graveyard behind it. Rows upon rows of snow-capped tomb stones protrude from the blanket of snow and Harry squeezes his wand in his pocket as he carefully steps up to the one nearest. Hermione finally lets go of his hand and moves two rows down. They wade deeper and deeper into the graveyard, leaving large tracks behind them and stooping to peer at the words on each headstone. Hermione finds the grave of Dumbledore’s mother and sister, and somehow it makes a lump grow in Harry’s throat looking at the name… not because it reminds him of the Headmaster that is now also dead, but because it reminds him that he hadn’t really known the man at all, not like he thought he did… 

 

”Harry, come here for a moment!” Hermione calls out again, just as he’d managed to retrace his steps to where he’d left off his search the last time she’d called him over and grudgingly makes his way back to her again. 

 

”What?”

 

”Look at this…”

 

The grave is extremely old, and on the weathered front of it Harry can just make out the outlines of a name, but the dates have completely faded. Then there’s a symbol underneath, and it’s that symbol that Hermione is pointing to. 

 

”It’s the mark again! The mark from _Beedle the Bard_ —!” he whispers excitedly. 

 

Harry squints at the symbol, it does indeed look like a triangel but it’s difficult to tell if it’s excatly like the mark in _Beedle the Bard_ , that Krum seemed to think was the mark of Grindelwald.

 

”Yeah… it could be”, Harry says uncertainly.  

 

Hermione lit her wand tip with a _lumos_ spell and leaned closer, peering at the name above the mark.  

 

”I’m going to keep looking for my parents, alright?” Harry says, allowing a slight edge to be heard in his voice and hoping that she’ll let him search in peace now. 

 

He wades deeper and deeper into the graveyard, when suddenly everything seems to go dark and quiet and he whirls around, half expecting to see Dementors to be descending on them, but then he realises that the carol singers have just stopped singing and the muffled chatter of the church-goers have faded away as they’ve left the church, that now stands dark and silent next to them. 

 

”Harry!” Hermione calls out again, and he’s gripped by annoyance until she adds, ”They’re here!”

 

Harry hurries over to where she is standing now, feeling as if something is pressing his ribs together and weighing down on his heart as he gets closer… The headstone is only two rows behind Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore’s grave and made of white marble, which makes it easier to read as it seems to shine in the darkness. 

 

_James Potter_

_born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981_

 

_Lily Potter_

_born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981_

 

_The last enemy that shall be_

_destroyed is death_

 

He repeats the last words to himself, feeling suddenly horror-struck. 

 

”Isn’t that a Death Eater idea?” he says roughly. ”Why is that there?”

 

”It doesn’t mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry”, Hermione reassures him. ”It just mean… you know… living beyond death, living after death.”

 

 _But they aren’t living_ , Harry thinks. _They’re gone._ Their remains lie rotting benath his feet, unknowing of the horrors that their son have seen and has yet to see, unknowing, indifferent, _just gone_ … and there is nothing that will change that. 

 

Tears well up before he knows it and spill hot onto his cheeks before immediately freezing, chilling his face further. He doesn’t bother hiding it, _what’s the point?_

 

Hermione has taken his hand again and is squeezing it gently. He doesn’t look at her, but squeezes back. She raises her wand and conjures up a small wreath of Christmas roses that she hands him and he crouches down and places it on the grave, propped up against the marble stone. 

 

”Harry”, Hermione whispers, her voice wary suddenly. ”There’s someone there, watching us. There, over by the bushes.”

 

Harry straightens up again and follows her line of sight, but can’t make out any figure in the darkness. 

 

”Are you sure?”

 

”I saw something move, I’m sure I did.”

 

She scrambles to get her wand out again from where she’d stuck it into her pocket and points it at the bushes. 

 

”We look like muggles”, Harry reminds her in an undertone. 

 

”Muggles who have just put flowers on your parents grave, Harry!” she hisses back. ”I’m sure there’s someone there!”

 

He hears a rustle, then a bit of wet snow dislodges from the bushes that Hermione holds at wand-point and drips onto the ground. Harry’s heartbeat stutters. 

 

”It’s a cat”, he says hopefully. ”Or a bird… Look, if it was Death Eater we’d be dead by now. But let’s just get out of here, and we can put the Cloak back on…”

 

They start moving away from the graveyard and the church, throwing looks over their shoulders as they go, and as soon as they reach the village square, they slip behind the corner of the pub and Harry pulls the Invisibility Cloak over them. 

 

”Let’s go this way”, Hermione whispers and leads the way down a dark side road going in the opposite direction that they’d come from. 

 

”How are we going to find Bathilda Bagshot’s house?” Hermione whispers, shivering next to him. ”Harry, what do you think? Harry—?”

 

But Harry isn’t paying attention, he’s staring at the end of this row of houses; he can see it. The _Fidelius_ must have ended when his parents died after all, because it was _right there_. Harry speeds up, dragging Hermione along with him, ignoring her yelp as she almost slips on the ice and doesn’t stop until they’re standing right outside the gate. 

 

” _Oh_ ”, Hermione whispers in a small voice. ”Harry…”

 

Most of the cottage is still standing, but the right side of the top floor has been blown apart, probably from when Killing Curse rebounded, Harry suspects. 

 

He has no intention of going inside, but he reaches out a hand and grabs the gate, just to feel it, to make sure it’s real — as if on cue, a sign with a golden plaque erupts from the snowy ground like some fast-growing crocus — Harry startles slightly, but leans closer to the gate to peer at the text on the plaque: 

 

_”On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,_

_Lily and James Potter lost their lives._

_Their son Harry remains the only wizard_

_ever to have survived the Killing Curse._

_This house, invisible to muggles, has been left_

_in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters_

_and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart_

_their family.”_

 

It feels absurd to Harry, like a tourist information board, the plaque summarises his parents death like it’s just another fascinating piece of local trivia. 

 

He suddenly becomes alerted to a figure hobbling up the lane towards them, silhouetted by the bright lights of the now distant square. Harry squints, trying to make out any features, thinking the small hunched-over figure looks like a woman, but can’t be sure. She — if it is indeed a woman — is moving very slowly and carefully, probably wary of slipping on the icy ground. Her stooping posture and shuffling gait all give the indication that, woman or not, this was a very old person. Nevertheless, Harry reaches into his pocket and grabs his wand carefully. 

 

Finally, she comes to a halt only a few yards away from them and just stands there. It’s definitely a woman, and Harry feels sure somehow that she isn’t a muggle, but that’s all he can be sure of. She doesn’t speak, just stands there staring at them as though able to see them through the Invisibility Cloak. 

 

Then the woman lifts one of her gloved hands and beckons them. 

 

Hermione presses closer to him, clutching his arm, ”How does she know?” she whispers. 

 

He shakes his head. 

 

The woman beckons again, more insistantly this time. And Harry’s suspiscions of her identity grow stronger.

 

”Are you Bathilda?” he says loudly, and Hermione gasps next to him. 

 

The woman nods, and beckons them again. 

 

Looking at each other, Harry and Hermione come to an unspoken agreement and start walking towards the woman who turn and starts walking back the same way they’d come. She leads them into one of the gardens they’d passed and fumbles with the key to the front door of the house, as they catch up to her. 

 

Once inside, Harry pulls the Cloak off Hermoine and himself, looking around cautiously at the dark house. The woman — Bathilda Bagshot — walks up to him and up-close he realises how very tiny she is, hunched over she barely reaches his chest. 

 

”Bathilda?” 

 

She nods again, taking off her moth-eaten shawl and revealing a head of scant white hair. Her eyes thick with cataracts peer up into Harry’s face and he wonders briefly if he can even see him at all. 

 

Feeling suddenly aware of the locket around his neck, Harry realises that the thing inside that would sometimes tick or beat has awoken and he can feel it pulse slightly through the gold. _Maybe it senses the Sword, the thing that can destroy it, is near?_ Harry thinks. 

 

Bathilda shuffles past them both, pushing Hermoine aside as though she didn’t see her and then disappears into the next room. 

 

”Harry, I’m not sure about this”, Hermione whispers. 

 

”Look at the size of her”, Harry says. ”I’m sure we can overpower her if we have to… Anyway, I should have told you, Muriel told me at the wedding that Bathilda isn’t all there, she called her ’gaga’…”

 

”Come!” the old woman calls from the other room, and Hermione jumps and clutches Harry’s arm. 

 

”It’s okay”, he tells her reassuringly and leads the way into what is revealed to be a sitting room where Bathilda is busying herself with lighting candles. 

 

Even with the candles, the room is still very dark. And positively filthy, Harry notes and wonders how long it’s been since anyone has been inside this house to check and see how Bathilda is coping. A surge of pity rising in his chest as he eyes her. Apparently she’s forgotten that she can use magic, because she’s fumbling with a box of matches instead of lighting the candles with her wand and her lace cuff comes dangerously close to going up in flames. 

 

”Let me do that!” Harry says quickly and walks over to her. 

 

Once he’s finished lighting all the remaining candle stubs spread out across the room, with Bathilda watching him silently the whole time, he notices a chest of drawers upon which several framed photographs stand cramped together. One picture in particular catches his eye and he lifts it up from its spot at the back: it’s the golden-haired boy from the vision of Voldemort invading Gregorovitch’s mind, the thief who’d perched on the wandmaker’s window sill, smiling in triumph… and now Harry knows where else he’s seen the boy. In _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ there had been a picture of this boy, arm in arm with a teenage Dumbledore, both of them grinning just like the boy is doing in this photograph. 

 

”Mrs — Miss — Bagshot?” Harry says shakily. ”Who is this?”

 

Bathilda is standing in the middle of the room, watching Hermione light the fireplace for her now and gives no sign that she’s heard Harry’s question. 

 

”Miss Bagshot?” he repeats louder and walks over to the woman, showing her the framed photograph. ”Who is this person?”

 

Bathilda peers at the picture solemnly, then looks up at Harry again. The Horcrux pulses faster against his chest. 

 

”Do you know who this person is? This man? What’s his name?”

 

Feeling frustration flare up as the woman merely looks at him vaguely, Harry takes a deep breath and then speaks even louder and clearer, ”Who — is — this — man?”

 

”Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione says. 

 

”This is the thief, Hermoine! The thief who stole from Gregorovitch! And he knew Dumbledore, I saw his picture in Rita Skeeter’s book — _please_!” he turns back to Bathilda. ”Who is this?”

 

”Why did you ask us to come with you, Mrs — Miss — Bagshot?” Hermione says raising her own voice. ”Was there something you wanted to tell us? Or… _show us_?”

 

Bathilda doesn’t seem to have heard Hermione at all, but she takes a couple of shuffling steps closer to Harry and jerks her head a little, indicating the hall. 

 

”You want us to leave?”

 

She shakes her head and points fitst to herself, then to Harry and throws a look towards the ceiling. 

 

”Oh, right”, Harry says. ”I think she wants us to go upstairs with her…”

 

”Alright”, Hermione says. ”Let’s go—”

 

But Bathilda immediately shakes her head vigourously, then again points to herself and Harry. 

 

”I think she wants me to go with her. Just me.”

 

”Why?” Hermione says sharply, squinting suspisciously at the woman now. 

 

”Maybe Dumbledore told her to only give the sword to me?”

 

”You really think she has the sword? And you think she knows it’s really you?”

 

”Yeah, she knows it’s me”, Harry says with confidence. 

 

”Oh, all right, but be quick, Harry”, Hermione says, wringing her hands nervously. 

 

Following Bathilda up the steep and narrow stairs, Harry grasps his wand nervously. She leads him into a small bedroom that smells even worse than the sitting room and when she shuts door behind him it goes completely pitch black. 

 

” _Lumos_ ”, Harry mutters, then gives a start when Bathilda appears a lot closer to him than he’d realised she was.

 

”You are Potter?” she whispers. 

 

”Yes, I am.”

 

The Horcrux beats fast against his chest, faster even than his own heart, creating a disjointed rhythm that is disconcerting him slightly. Bathilda is nodding solemnly, but seems a bit distracted by his lit wand-tip. 

 

”Have you got anything for me?” he asks her clearly. 

 

Bathilda closes her eyes then, and suddenly several things happen at once: Harry’s scar prickles painfully, the Horcrux twitches so wildly that it actually makes the front of his sweater move for a second, and as the dark room seems to dissolve for a moment, Harry feels a surge of pure joy and a high, cold voice rings out in his head: _hold him!_

 

Harry sways as the vision, _for it must have been a vision,_ he thinks distractedly, vanishes and the dark bedroom with its foul, arid smells seems to close in on him once more. 

 

”Have — have you got anything for me?” he asks again, louder. 

 

”Over there”, she whispers and points to the corner of the room. 

 

”What is it?” he says uncertainly, holding his wand aloft and hoping to catch a glimpse of gold or ruby red, but all he can see is a dresser with what appears to be a pile of dirty laundry on it. 

 

”There”, she says again, pointing. 

 

Harry edges between her and the unmade bed, careful not to upset the full chamber pot sticking out from underneath it. He feels reluctant to let the woman out of his sight, but finally turns to the dressing table and quickly scans the pile of clothes. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the woman move weirdly, then suddenly collapse to the floor and he whirls back around in panic and stares in horror as the giant snake Nagini pours out of the neck of the dress where Bathilda’s head had been only seconds before. 

 

Harry raises his wand, but the snake strikes him before he’s had a chance to utter a spell. Its teeth dig into Harry’s forearm and he loses the grip on his wand, it goes flying up towards the ceiling, its light swinging around the room before going out, leaving the room in complete darkness —

 

He’s suddenly hit by the fat tail, hard across his midriff and it knocks the breath out of him. He falls back against the dressing table and tumble to the floor. The snake coiling on top of him, pushing down, squeezing the air out of his body. 

 

”No”, he gasps faintly. 

 

” _Yes… Hold you…_ ” the snake replies in a hiss. 

 

Darkness envelops him, _and he’s flying… flying without broom or Thestral… triumph thumping in his heart…_

 

Then suddenly the weight of Nagini is lifted from Harry’s body and he gasps, the vision of Voldemort leaving him again, he scrambles up, gasping, as Nagini strikes at Hermione when she bursts through the door… Hermione dives to the side with a scream, her deflected curse hitting the window and breaking the glass… Harry feels around desperately for his wand and as soon as his fingers close around it he tries to take aim, but it seems as though the whole room is filled with snake, everywhere he looks, its muscular body is _coiling, thrasing_ …

 

Hermione is nowhere to be seen and for a terrifying second Harry fears the worst, but then there’s a loud _bang_ and a jet of red light that can only come from his friend… Nagini flies into the air, smacking Harry across the face as she soars past, coil after coil rising to the ceiling. 

 

Harry’s scar sears even more painfully, more powerfully than it’s done in years. 

 

”He’s coming! _Hermione, he’s coming!_ ”

 

Everything is chaos. Nagini falls hissing to the floor, smashing shells off the walls and splintered china goes flying everywhere. Harry jumps over the bed and seizes Hermione from her hiding place in the dark corner, dragging her with him back across the bed as the snake rears to attack once more… but Harry knows that worse than the snake is coming, is perhaps already at the gate… His scar feels as though it might split his head in two… _He’s close, he’s really close…_

 

”Confingo!” Hermione yells as the snake lunges again. 

 

The spell ricochets off the wardrobe and bounces around the room, narrowingly missing Harry’s hand, while simultaneously a piece of glass from the broken wardrobe mirror cuts his cheek… He pulls Hermione close to his body and leaps from the bed to the broken dressing table and then straight out the smashed window, diving into the cold nothingness of the night… they twist in mid-air —

 

Harry’s scar bursts open and he’s Voldemort; he’s running across the bedroom and hurls himself at the window, his long, white hands clutching the sill as he catches a glimpse of the two figures twist and vanish — he screams with rage 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've divided my notes into chapters now and it should be eight more left.
> 
> Keep commenting and if you have any thoughts or ideas bring them on!  
> (That's kind of what triggers me to write, so!)


	21. The silver doe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry jumps to his feet and starts pacing, to let some of his frustration out before his temper gets the better of him. He doesn’t want to take his anger out on Hermoine, but the more he thinks about Dumbledore, and the Horcruxes, and this suicidal quest to find and destroy them with nothing to go on, not to mention Snape, always Snape, the angrier he gets…

” _Harry, it’s all right, you’re all right!_ ”

 

”No…” he moans feverishly. 

 

He’s moving with Voldemort’s feline grace to pick up… the picture, _the picture of the thief_ … Voldemort’s skinny, white fingers close around the broken frame, like a skeletal hand, indifferent to the sharp edges of the shattered glass that graze the bloodless skin… Rage snuffed out again as quickly as it had flared up, replaced by surprise and joy… _He’d found him, he’d found the thief!_ …

 

”No… I dropped it… I dropped it…”

 

”Harry! It’s okay! Wake up, Harry, _wake up —_!”

 

He’s Harry… _He’s Harry, not Voldemort…_ His hands are empty, curled into tight fists along his sides… He’s lying down, drenched in cold, sticky sweat… 

 

”Harry…” Hermione whispers and he opens his eyes finally. ”Do you feel all — all right?”

 

”Yes”, he lies, and starts sitting up, throwing a furtive glance around the tent, reassuring himself that they are, miraculouly safe. 

 

”I had to use a Hover Charm to get you into your bunk, I couldn’t lift you”, Hermione says, she’s wringing her hands again, Harry notices. ”You’ve been… Well, you haven’t been quite… You’ve been ill. Quite ill.”

 

”How long ago did we leave?”

 

”Hours ago. It’s nearly morning.”

 

”And I’ve been… What, unconscious?”

 

”Not exactly”, Hermione says uncomfortably. ”You’ve been shouting and moaning and… things… I couldn’t get the Horcrux off you, it was stuck to your chest. You’ve got a mark, I’m sorry, I had to use a Severing Charm to get it away… The snake bit you too, but I’ve cleaned the wound and put some dittany on it…”

 

Harry pulls the sweaty t-shirt off and looks down at his chest. There’s a scarlet oval branded into his skin, just above his heart. Glancing at his forearm, he can also make out the half-healed puncture wounds from the snake’s bite and shivers at the memory. 

 

He lies back against the pillows and looks into Hermione’s face, drawn with tension and nearly grey. He tells her what happened in the bedroom before she showed up, that it hadn’t been Bathilda Bagshot at all, but the snake all along. That as soon as she got him on her own, she started talking and he hadn’t realised they’d been speaking in Parseltongue, but that’s obviously why she wanted Hermione to stay downstairs. 

 

Hermione’s eyes widen almost comically when he tells her how the old woman had suddenly transformed into the giant snake and attacked him. 

 

”The snake was _inside_ her?” she says horrified. 

 

Harry nods, and tells her she’d summoned You-Know-Who and he’d told her to hold Harry until he could get there, that he’d heard his voice inside his head and felt his joy as he flew towards Godric’s Hollow. 

 

”And after we jumped out the window, it was like I was him again — running into the house, into the bedroom, I was standing at the window and I saw _us_ Disapparate… Then he — I — was remembering that night, all of it…”

 

He trails off. The memories of that Halloween night, Voldemort’s memories of killing Lily and James, and trying to kill Harry himself, still fresh in his mind and his stomach turns. He sits up quickly and gets out of bed. 

 

”Harry, no, I’m sure you ought to rest!”

 

”You’re the one who needs rest”, he contradicts her with a decisive shake of the head, pulling a dry t-shirt over his head. ”I’m fine. I’ll keep watch for a while. Where’s my wand?”

 

He pulls a sweater on as well and thus misses the stricken look on Hermione’s face, but when she doesn’t answer him his shackles go up anyway. 

 

”Hermione?”

 

The girl nibbles her lower lip nervously, and her eyes regain their suspscious sheen of before. Harry’s stomach drops. 

 

”Where is my wand?” he repeats. 

 

Hermione still refuses to speak, but she reaches down and picks up something from the floor next to bunk and holds it out to him. At first he doesn’t get why she’s showing him a couple of sticks, but then he sees the unmistakable red phoenix feather sticking out of one of them and realises what those sticks actually are. 

 

Harry takes his splintered wand in his hands gingerly as though accepting a living, wounded thing. He stares in horror at the phoenix feather and the splintered wood. Then holds it out to Hermione again with desperate hope.

 

”Mend it. _Please._ ”

 

”Harry, I don’t think — when it’s broken like this — I mean remember Ron's wand in Second Year —?”

 

”Please, Hermione, try!”

 

” _R- Reparo_ ”, Hermione says, waving her own wand over Harry’s and it immediately reseals itself. 

 

Harry’s heart leaps with relief and hope, but it is quickly squashed when he casts a Lumos Spell and the wand-tip merely sparks feebly before going out again. Pointing the wand at Hermoine he says firmly ” _Expelliarmus!_ ”

 

Hermione’s wand gives a weak twitch in her hand, but nothing else happens to it. Harry’s wand on the other hand promptly splits in two again. 

 

”Oh Harry”, Hermione whispers. ”I’m so, _so_ sorry… As we were leaving, that snake was coming at us, I cast a Blasting Curse at it, and it rebounded everywhere, it must have — must have hit —”

 

”It was an accident”, Harry says firmly, with a confidence he doesn’t he feel, concentrating really hard on not blaming her, at least not openly. ”I’ll just borrow yours for now. While I keep watch.”

 

Hermione leaves him alone for most part of the day and doesn’t approach him until way into the afternoon, when the sun has started to set behind the trees. She’s carrying two steaming teacups in her hands and offers him one timidly as she crouches down in front of him. He thanks her shortly and busies himself with blowing steam from his cup so he doesn’t have to look at her remorseful face for too long. 

 

Revealing a book that she’d carried under one of her arms, Hermione offers that to Harry as well and he immediately recognises the cover. It’s Rita Skeeter’s unathorised biography on Dumbledore. Harry flips the pages until he finds the picture of the teenage Dumbledore and the thief and scans the caption quickly, then does a double-take and reads it again more slowly, sure he must have read it wrong the first time. 

 

”Albus Dumbledore, shortly after his mother’s death, with his friend Gellert Grindelwald”, the caption reads.

 

” _Grindelwald?_ ” Harry says incredulously. 

 

Hermione nibbles her lower lip silently, then nods for him to continue reading the chapter entitled ” _The Greater Good_ ”

 

When Harry’s finished the chapter, he feels like the lining of his stomach has turned to ice and takes a large gulp of tea in the hopes of warming himself up again, but the tea is cold by now and only makes him feel worse. 

 

”I know”, Hermione murmurs sadly. ”It doesn’t make for very nice reading, but…”

 

”Yeah, you could say that”, Harry scoffs, trying not to sound like someone has just ripped his heart out and stomped on it a couple of times. 

 

”But don’t forget Harry, this is Rita Skeeter writing.”

 

Harry just shakes his head. Unless Rita Skeeter had re-written Dumbledore’s own letter to Grindelwals with her Quick-Quote Quill, they can hardly blame her for the ideas that Dumbledore seemed to have had as a teenager. 

 

”It’s an awful thought that Dumbledore’s ideas might have helped Grindelwald rise to power, but on the other hand, even Rita can’t pretend that they knew each other for more than a few months one summer when they were both really yooung, and —”

 

”I thought you’d say that”, Harry interrupts her. ”I thought you’d say ’they were young’ but they were the same age as we are now. And here _we_ are, risking our lives to fight the Dark Arts, and there _he_ was, in a huddle with his new best friend, plotting the rise to power over the muggles!”

 

Harry jumps to his feet and starts pacing, to let some of his frustration out before his temper gets the better of him. He doesn’t want to take his anger out on Hermione, but the more he thinks about Dumbledore, and the Horcruxes, and this suicidal quest to find and destroy them _with nothing to go on_ , not to mention Snape, _always Snape_ , the angrier he gets… 

 

”I’m not trying to defend what Dumbledore wrote”, Hermione says. ”All that ’right to rule’ rubbish, it’s ’Magic is might’ all over again, but Harry, his mother had just died, he was stuck alone in that house —”

 

”He wasn’t alone!” Harry snaps. ”He had his brother and sister for company, his Squib sister he was keeping locked up —!”

 

”I don’t believe that”, Hermione says firmly. ”Whatever was wrong with that girl, I don’t believe she was a Squib. The Dumbledore we knew would never, ever have allowed —”

 

”The Dumbledore we thought we knew didn’t want to conquer muggles by force!” Harry bellows, the sudden noise of it scaring a few blackbirds from a nearby tree and sending them flying up against the evening sky. 

 

”Harry, I’m sorry, but I think the real reason you’re so angry is that Dumbledore never told you any of this himself… But he loved you, Harry. I know he loved you.”

 

”I don’t know who he loved, Hermione. Maybe this Gellert Grindelwald bloke. But never me. This isn’t love, the mess he’s left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with Grindelwald than he ever shared with me…”

 

As if this admission has punctured the air out of him, Harry sinks back to the forest floor and picks up Hermoine’s wand again. 

 

”Thanks for the tea. I’ll finish the watch. You go back inside.”

 

 

*

 

It’s snowing by the time Hermione takes over the watch at midnight. Harry curls up under two blankets in his bunk and falls into a fitfull sleep. 

 

Waking up in a cold-sweat every other minute, and quelling down the disappointment at the distinct absence of dark, glittering eyes and thin, soft lips in the fragments of dreams that he can remember. 

 

Finally, when he startles awake after a particularly disturbing dream in which Nagini had burst through a wreath of Christmas roses and lunged at him, Harry decides that keeping watch would be more restful than actually trying to get some rest and walks over to Hermoine. She’s sitting huddled in the tent entrance, reading _A history of Magic_ by the light of her wand. 

 

Harry suggests moving on in the morning and she readily agrees, blinking fat snowflakes out of her eyelids. 

 

”We’ll go somewhere more sheltered. I kept thinking I could hear someone moving around the site, I even thought I saw somebody… I’m sure I imagined it! The snow in the dark, it plays tricks on your eyes… But perhaps we ought to Disapparate under the Cloak, just in case?”

 

After they’ve packed up everything, Harry puts the Horcrux around his neck and grabs Hermione’s hand. The usual tightness of Apparation swallows them up, then spits them out again in another wooded area with less snow but just as chilly. 

 

”Where are we?” Harry asks mildly curious, as Hermione opens the beaded handbag and starts rummaging around its contens, finally pulling out tent poles. 

 

”Forest of Dean”, she says, speaking into the bag. ”I came camping here once, with my mum and dad.”

 

After two nights of nearly no sleep, Harry’s nerves are frazzled and his senses on high alert. But he refuses to let Hermione take the night watch. Harry knows he won’t be able to sleep much anyway and what’s the point of them both losing a good night’s sleep after all?

 

He places a cushion in the tent mouth and sits down, wearing all the sweaters he owns and still shivering slightly when a light breeze hits him. He jerks upright and listens tensely, sure he’d heard a noise. Probably just a small animal scurrying around, he tells himself after a moment… He recalls Voldemort’s memory of that Halloween night, the sounds of his cloak slithering over dead leaves as he made his way through the village of Godric’s Hollow… Harry shakes his head, having just imagined hearing the noise again, somewhere in the forest, _but it was just his imagination. It must have been._

 

All the same, he peers out into the darkness. But it makes no difference. On a cloudy night like this, with no hint of moonlight, it’s impossible to distinguish anything in the dark. It’s like he’s been stuck somehow in-between Apparition points, in some horrible limbo of nothingness. 

 

Curiously, he holds out his left hand in front of his face to see if he’ll be able to make it out. 

 

That’s when it happens; a bright silver light suddenly appears amongst the naked trees just up ahead of him, moving closer and closer to him, but soundlessly. Whatever the source of the light, it doesn’t disturb the blanket of dry leaves on the ground as it moved, but seems to simply drift closer.

Harry immediately jumps to his feet, holding out Hermione’s wand in front of him. As the thing gets nearer, the light becomes almost blinding and Harry screws his eyes up for a moment, still holding out his wand arm shakily. 

 

Blinking in the pure white light, until his eyes have become accustomed to it, Harry stares in wonder as the silvery creature steps out from behind the nearest oak tree and stands merely feet away from him, gazing silently at him through long-lashed eyes that seems to reach into Harry’s very soul. It’s a silver-white doe. And as Harry meets her eyes, he feels a soothing sensation seep into his body, the feeling of being safe, of being home… and although Harry has no idea where this silver doe came from, and has never seen it before in his life, he somehow feels as though he’s been waiting for her to come to him, only he’d forgotten until this moment that they’d ever arranged to meet. 

 

Harry holds his breath, waiting for something else to happen, with only a subtle inkling of what tickling him in the back of his mind, so subtle and out-of-reach that he barely notices. 

 

Then the doe turns and starts to walk away again, and Harry is gripped with panic. 

 

”No!” he blurts out, his voice cracking with lack of use. ”Come back!”

 

But the doe takes no notice of his plea, just continues to trot silently and deliberately through the trees, slowly disappearing from Harry again. 

 

He hesitates for a second, his voice of reason — sounding very much like Mad-Eye Moody in times like these — reminding him that this could be a trap, a trick to lure him away from the tent and Hermoine. 

 

But then his intuition — taking on the voice of Remus Lupin for some reason — interrupts and says that whatever that thing was, and whoever sent it, if indeed it was sent to him, it wasn’t the result of Dark Magic. 

 

Harry starts running after it, wand still held aloft, just in case. He zig-zags between the trees, only tripping over one root and one rock, which is a remarkable feat in near pitch blackness, especially considering Harry has managed to trip over both his own feet and completely empty spaces on more than one occasion in the past. 

 

Deeper and deeper into the forest the doe leads him and Harry walks quickly, almost jogging to catch up with her, sure that once he does she’ll allow him to approach her properly and then she’ll speak and she’ll tell him exactly what he needs to know…

 

Finally, the doe comes to a halt and turns to gaze at him once more. Feeling a jolt of excitement, Harry breaks into a run, but before he reaches her, the doe vanishes suddenly. Harry stumbles to a stop, blinking in disorientation, the sudden darkness shocking him, and as he screws his eyes shut once more he can still see the imprint of the doe’s light behind his eyelids. 

 

Fear grips his heart then. The doe’s presence had meant he was safe, but now that she was gone… 

 

” _Lumos_ ”, he whispers urgently. 

 

A muffled crackle of twigs being trod on rings out in the deafening silence and Harry whirls around in panic, listening intently, trying to make any shapes out in the darkness beyond the sphere of his wand light. Had it been a trap after all? Had the doe led him to an ambush, was he about to be attacked?

 

Choking on his own breath, his heart galloping up into his throat, he holds the wand higher. Was he imagining, or was somebody standing there watching him? 

 

Another noise, from behind him, and he whirls back around, ” _Lumos maxima!_ ”

 

But no, nothing. Just more trees, and a small, frozen pool. Its cracked black surface glittering as Harry took a few steps closer to it, wand held high. 

 

 _But what was that?_ Something in the pool seemed to glint as the wandlight hit it. Harry held his breath and took another few steps closer… His own distorted reflection stared back at him fromt he uneven surface of the ice. But there was something else too. Beneath the ice, on the bottom of the pool… A great silver cross… _No, not a cross — the Sword of Gryffindor!_

 

Harry kneels down at the edge of the pool and stares down at the Sword in mute shock. How is this possible? he thinks excitedly. How can the Sword of Gryffindor be lying in a forest pool so close to where he and Hermione were camping? _Hardly a coincidence_ , Harry thinks. But if some unknown magic had pulled Hermione to this place, or if the Sword had been placed in the pool after they’d arrived, he’s not sure. 

 

And if it had been placed there for Harry to find, and the doe — which Harry assumes must have been a Patronus — was sent to guide Harry to it, who was behind it? and where are they now? 

 

Harry turns around and scans his surroundings once more, searching for a human outline or the glint of an eye, but the clearing is empty. Turning back to the pool, Harry allows some of his apprehension to make way for exhiliration; _he’s found the Sword!_  

 

” _Accio sword_ ”, he says, but stays firmly on the bottom of the pool and give no sign of a magical tug. 

 

He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. If it was, whomever intended Harry should find the Sword would just have had to put it on the ground, not stick it on the bottom of a frozen pool after all. He thinks back to Second Year and what he’d done to summon th Sword then. He’d been in danger and asked for help then. 

 

Glancing at the Sword again, unsure, Harry mutters ”Help?”

 

Nothing happens. 

 

Thinking again, Harry tries to recall what Dumbledore had told him in his office after the incident in the Chamber of Secrets. _Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that sword out of the hat._

 

 _Okay,_ Harry thinks. _I can work with that._ So what are the qualities that define a Gryffindor? What was it the Sorting Hat always said? 

 

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindor apart._

 

Harry lets out a sigh, knowing what he’ll have to do. If he’s completely honest with himself, a small part of him had suspected this the second he saw the Sword. 

 

Taking a steeling breath, he starts pulling all the sweaters off, shivering violently as the cold night air hits his naked skin. Then toeing off his boots and pulling off his socks, he finally unbuckles his belt with shaking fingers and steps out of his jeans. Finally placing the pouch containing his broken wand, the shard of Sirius’ mirror, his mother’s letter that he’d found in Grimmauld Place and the Golden Snitch Dumbledore left him in his will on top of the small pile of clothes, he walks up to the very edge of the pond, already shivering violently in just his underwear.

 

” _Diffindo_ ”, he says, pointing Hermione’s wand at the middle of the pond and the ice immediately cracks. 

 

It’s not terribly deep, but to get to the Sword he will have to submerge himself completely in the water. He puts Hermione’s wand down carefully on the side, making sure that the lit tip was pointing towards the hole in the ice and then, before he has time to psych himself out, he dives in. 

 

If the night air had been a shock to his body, it was nothing compared to this. As soon as the black water envelops him, it’s as if the very air in his lunges freeze solid and every one of his pores scream with pain. The cold pushes on his skull and squeezes his brain as if he’s just Disapparated, except this pressure is even worse than that, the pain of it fierce like the _Cruciatus Curse_.

 

Harry tries to keep his eyes open to look for the Sword, but it hurts too much. He gropes blindly for it instead, soon bumping the hilt of it with his numb fingers and concentrating all of his remaining strength and presence of mind on grasping the hilt… Then something closes around his neck, pulling him backwards, choking him; he raises his empty hand to free himself of whatever’s coiled around his neck, only to discover the chain of the locket pulled taut against his skin… he claws at the chain, trying to get a finger in between the chain and his own neck, but it’s impossible, the chain tightens further… 

 

Harry drops the Sword and starts pulling on the chain with both hands, kicking desperately and trying to get back to the surface, but only succeeds in propelling himself further into the depth of the pool, the Horcrux pulling him further under the ice, away from the hole… He thrashes wildly, air bubbles erupting from his mouth as he tries to scream… He feels his limbs grow heavier and heavier, his fingers and toes numbing completely… _So this is it,_ he thinks faintly, _this is how I am to die… trust Trelawney to get it wrong…_

 

A pressure closes around his torso, like that of an arm hugging him tightly. Surely Death come to take him… Then darkness overtakes him completely.

 

 

*

 

He comes to slowly, sluggishly… Someone is hovering above him, but he can’t tell who. The early light of dawn has filtered into the forest clearing, but without his glasses it’s still no use, all he can make out is a blurry silhouette and dark hair… _Hermione? But no, her hair is bigger, frizzier_ … 

 

Thin lips press against his firmly, urgently… _Why are they kissing me?_ … Then hot air is pushing into his mouth and throat, and it should feel like an invasion, but it actually warms him up a little, like a shot of fire whiskey travelling into his body… A violent cough seizes him unexpectedly and before he knows it he’s heaving cold water all over himself and spluttering miserably. 

 

The figure leans back enough so that he can curl up on his side and continue to cough. He’s vaguely aware of a warm hand on his back, pounding him several times, then caressing him roughly, _too roughly… Oh, to warm me,_ Harry realises after a second. He’s shivering violently, like he’s having a fit. 

 

The figure moves away, and Harry is gripped by a panic similar to what he felt when the silver doe vanished and tries to sit up, but his limbs won’t cooperate with him and he ends up twitching uselessly on the ground instead. 

 

”Calm yourself!” a deep voice says roughly, and Harry almost chokes on his own ragged breath. 

 

_No… It can’t be…_

 

Then hands are on him, manhandling him, pulling his arms and neck and… _Oh,_ Harry thinks dumbly as the first sweater is pushed in place over his still damp body. The figure goes through the same routine with his other five sweaters and by the last one, Harry has actually managed to get enough blood into his arms so that he can assist the proceedings somewhat. 

 

Once the sixth sweater is on him, his jeans are pulled just as roughly over his legs and then something warm and soft, like a blanket, is wrapped around his entire body, before his glasses are unceremoniously thrust onto his face. But blinking slowly, Harry realises the glasses have done nothing to improve his sight. In fact, the figure in front of him seems even blurrier than before. 

 

There is the unmistakable rustle of someone moving swiftly, and with an annoyed sigh Harry’s glasses are removed once more. After a couple of seconds, during which Harry can only hear the muffled noise of someone grumbling under their breath, the glasses are pushed onto his face again and nearly taking one of his eyes out.

 

”H-Hey —!” Harry protests weakly through his chattering teeth. 

 

Severus Snape is scowling back at him, and Harry can see him clear as anything. He shakes his head minutely, _it can’t be…_ He must be unconscious still and dreaming. 

 

”You — foolish — _stupid_ boy!” the man sitting in front of him hisses and Harry startles at the sudden noise of it. 

 

”Do you mind telling me what the _Hell_ you were thinking?” Snape continues in a dangerously low voice trembling with the effort of keeping calm. ”Why didn’t you take this _off_ before you went into the pond?”

 

Harry stares numbly at the locket dangling from Snape’s hand. A small part of him is desperate to grab it, to take it back, convinced that Snape has come to steal it back… He makes a feeble attempt at reaching out, but finds both his arms obstructed by the blanket… He looks down. _Not a blanket. Snape’s cloak._

 

” _Well_?” 

 

Harry looks up again swiftly. He tries telling himself he’s dreaming, but he’s finding it harder and harder to believe as warmth starts coming back into his limbs and his mind starts to clear. He swallows thickly. All the questions he’s wanted to ask the man, all the things he’s wanted to say… But he can’t even get his mouth to work. 

 

Snape’s eyes seem to be reaching into him, but Harry doesn’t bother to put any shields up. He doesn’t have the strength. And frankly, he wants Snape to know. All of it. 

 

”Are you all right?” the man asks after a moment’s heavy silence. 

 

Harry nods. 

 

”I…” Snape seems to hesitate for a second, his eyes flickering over Harry’s face uncertainly before flitting away completely. ”I don’t have long. I didn’t expect to… I was just going to make sure you found the Sword. I need to get back to Hogwarts before breakfast, or they’ll notice my absence from the castle.”

 

 _The doe,_ Harry thinks. _Was that Snape’s Patronus?_

 

”But I suppose I’ll have to destroy this thing before I go”, he grumbles in an undertone and gives the locket a look of digust. 

 

Harry gives him a startled look. 

 

”It’s a Horcrux, yes?” Snape snaps. ”Well, since you completely bungled up my plan to assure the Sword would present itself to you by acting as your usual reckless self and nearly getting yourself killed, again, and thus forcing me to risk my own life in order to save yours, again… it looks as though the Sword belongs to me… _again_ …”

 

Snape sneers, then takes a deep breath and peers critically at the locket. 

 

”I —” Harry croaks out, before his voice breaks and he coughs. 

 

Snape merely glances over at him, then goes back to study the locket. 

 

”Pah — Parss —” Harry coughs, then tries again. ”Parseltongue…”

 

”Mmm”, Snape hums in agreement. ”Most likely… Are you able to speak it?”

 

Harry clears his throat thoroughly, then nods. 

 

”All right”, Snape says warily, and places the locket on a nearby rock. ”You open it, and I’ll destroy it…”

 

”Wait…” Harry says weakly and pushes himself up to sitting, making sure the cloak stays wrapped around him. ”Before…”

 

”I told you, I don’t have a lot of time, Potter”, Snape says. ”What is it?”

 

”You kissed me…”

 

Snape flinches, then glares back at Harry as though he’d just gravely insulted him. 

 

”I did not _kiss you_!” he says vehemently. ”I gave you mouth to mouth! _I saved your life,_ you ungrateful little —!”

 

Harry frowns in confusion, then quickly shakes his head. ”Not now, _before —_!”

 

” _Enough_!” Snape barks. ”I don’t have time for this! If the Carrows notice I’m gone — Never mind — I just don’t have time for your _stupid questions,_ Potter —”

 

”—Harry—”

 

”—Do you want my help or not?”

 

”I don’t need your help!” Harry says indignantly. ”I can do it myself, just give it here —”

 

”What, the Sword?” Snape sneers. ”Unfortunately not, unless you feel ready for another swim?”

 

Harry deflates at that, glancing over at the pool, another violent shiver passes through him at the thought of going back into that water again. He peers over at Snape again, catching the man’s subtle eyeroll. 

 

”Just tell the damn thing to open”, Snape grumbles. 

 

”All right, on three… one… two… three… _Open._ ”

 

The golden door of the locket swings open with a click, and inside blinks a set of living eyes, dark and handsome like the eyes of Tom Riddle before they became red and slit-pupilled. 

 

Snape raises the Sword of Gryffindor high in the air, aiming the point at one of the frantically swivelling eyes, when suddenly both eyes fixed on him and a hissing voice rises from the locket. 

 

” _I have seen your heart, and it is mine._ ”

 

”Don’t listen to it, stab it!” Harry says anxiously, as Snape seems to hesitate. 

 

” _I have seen your dreams, Severus Snape… and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible…_ ”

 

”Stab it!” Harry shouts, his voice echoing between the trees as Snape continues to meet the Horcrux gaze as if transfixed. 

 

_”Least loved, always… by the muggle father who wanted a normal child, by the mother whose life became a living Hell from the minute you were born and continued to be a Hell until the day she died… Your only childhood friend chose your enemy over you in the end… Your only friend in adulthood—”_

 

Snape snarls, and re-adjusting his hold on the hilt of the Sword he makes to stab it finally. 

 

Riddle’s eyes burn scarlet for a second and then two dark shapes erupted from the locket’s windows, from the eyes, like ominous bubbles that contorted and swirled until they formed a grotesque copy of Harry and another boy, faceless at first, locked in a heated embrace… Snape stumbles back in alarm, almost losing his grip on the Sword, but quickly regains his composure again. 

 

Harry stares at the locket’s display with mix of embarassment and fury, his cheeks burning as the copy of himself breaks the kiss and gives Snape a lewd, sneering smile, his emerald eyes glinting with malice… The other boy turns to look at Snape as well, and now the face has started to gain some features… decidedly pinched features, Harry notices aghast, and as the hair steadily turns white blonde, both boys sneer at Snape… 

 

 _”You didn’t really think I ever had feelings for you, did you?”_ Riddle’s mock-up of Harry spoke in Riddle’s hissing voice. _”I mean just look at you…”_

 

Riddle-Harry lets out a mocking tinkle of laughter close to a giggle and a mean scowl on his face contorts his features further until he looks mean and ugly, as though making an impression of Snape.  Riddle-Draco throws his head back and laughs humorlessly. It’s the ugliest sound Harry has ever heard. 

 

_”Who could ever love you? You’re ugly, and nasty, and old… What do you imagine you have to offer someone like me? Or anyone for that matter? You’re useless, Severus… You are a coward, and a traitor, and a murderer…”_

 

Harry looks over at Snape in desperation. The older man’s face is screwed up in anguish, just like that night…

 

_”The thought of you, and your mangled-up, disgusting body makes me sick. In fact, I think I would have preferred to drown than having you anywhere near me… I may have confessed to an innocent schoolboy crush on you, but if I ever had any such feelings for you, it’s only because you manipulated me into feeling them… you used me, in my weak and vulnerable state, Severus, you took advantage of me… you are a dirty old man…”_

 

”Don’t listen to it —!” Harry begs. ”Just stab it! _Please_ , just stab it!”

 

” _I hate you”_ , Riddle-Harry says, smiling maliciously as Riddle-Draco jeers. _”I really hate you…”_

 

With a broken sob of a scream, Snape plunges the Sword down, the blade flashing brilliantly in the glow from the sunrise, and Harry curls up with his arm over his head in protection… there is a clang of metal, then a blood-curdling, high-pitched scream… 

 

Harry looks up, his heart hammering wildly in his chest… The monstrous versions of himself and Draco Malfoy have vanished, as have the eyes of Tom Riddle from the shattered remains of the locket. Snape lets his arm fall to his side, the Sword scraping the ground. He’s panting as if he’s just run a marathon, and he’s avoiding looking over at Harry. 

 

” _What the bloody Hell —!_ ” 

 

Harry whirls around, still sitting on the ground, legs tangled up in Snape’s cloak. His heart leaps in his chest. 

 

”Ron!” Harry exclaims.

 

The redhaired boy stands frozen on the spot, staring between Harry and Snape, his fingers twitching round the wand clutched in his raised hand. Harry follows his gaze to where Snape is collecting himself once more, still refusing to look at Harry. He walks back to the pond he unceremoniously drops the Sword into the hole in the ice again. 

 

”Hey —!” Ron protests and recieves a sour look in response. 

 

Snape glances over at the cloak, wrapped securely around Harry’s body, careful to avoid looking directly at Harry’s face still. Harry feels his face heat up. He should really give the cloak back, he thinks… but for some reason he feels really reluctant to give it up. It’s so warm, _and it smells like — never mind,_ he tells himself. _But it’s warm,_ and Harry might get hypothermia… He glances over at Snape again. The man _did_ jump in and save him, and he is still drenched unlike Harry who is wearing dry clothes and has managed to warm up considerably by now… But he still doesn’t want to give the cloak back. 

 

Snape seems to come to the same conclusion and instead of putting up a fight he apparently decides to sacrifice his cloak, because without another word or even a glance at Harry he turns on the spot and Disapparates.

 


	22. The Deathly Hallows

The moment of stunned silence following Snape’s abrupt disappearance stretches out into an awkward one and Harry and Ron glances sideways at each other, both blushing furiously and neither wanting to be the first to speak. Harry wonders how much of what the Horcrux had said that Ron actually heard… _I may have confessed to an innocent schoolboy crush on you…_ Harry swallows thickly, shooting another glance at his friend who is now looking everywhere but in Harry’s direction. With a sinking feeling, Harry is sure that his friend heard it all, sure he knows now… knows Harry’s deepest, darkest secret… _I have to say something to him,_ Harry thinks desperately, but his mouth refuses to co-operate. 

 

Finally, Ron looks over at the pool instead and with a deep breath he marches over to it. Harry can’t help but to wonder if his best friend is so unwilling to face this conversation that he would rather dive into a freezing pool of water… Ron kicks off his boots and pulls his sweater off, then dives in without as much as a glance in Harry’s direction. 

 

Harry shivers as his sense memory recalls the temperature of the water, and he pulls Snape’s cloak tighter around himself as he waits for his friend to re-emerge. It only takes Ron a couple of seconds to grab the Sword of Gryffindor from the bottom of the pool and then he shoots up through the hole in the ice and gasps desperately. For a brief moment he struggles for purchase on the slippery ice, but then he heaves himself out of the water and quickly grabs his sweater with shaking hands. Harry gingerly gets to his feet, his legs screaming in pain as he regains blood circulation. 

 

Ron struggles to get his wet arms into the sweater and then pulls it down with trembling hands. It bunches a little around his waist. Dark patches appearing where the water from his torso stains the threadbare textile. 

 

”You alright?” Harry asks. 

 

”Ye- eah- I- I’m fine…” Ron forces out through his chattering teeth, still not looking directly at Harry. 

 

All relief that had flooded Harry at the sight of his best friend leaves him in a whoosh and instead he remembers exactly how angry he has been with him ever since he up and left him and Hermoine. He recalls all the hurtful things that he said before he stormed off, the ugly, bitter scowl that had marred his red face. 

 

”What are you doing here anyway?” he barks. 

 

Ron startles and finally meets his eyes. Harry’s newfound rage immediately deflates at the regret that shines clearly from his friend’s face, and he drops his own gaze to the ground. 

 

”I- I- I w-wanted t-to c-come back —” Ron stammers through the rattling of his teeth. ”Just as s-s-soon as I left…”

 

”Alright”, Harry mumbles and starts pulling his boots back on to have something, anything, to focus on other than the emotions emanating in waves from his friend.

 

It takes him the good part of ten minutes to tie his laces, his fingers still numb from the cold. By the time he’s done, Ron looks positively miserable. 

 

”I’m glad you came back”, Harry murmurs finally. ”We’ve missed you. Hermione especially. But that’s between the two of you…”

 

Ron seems to be studying the rubies on the hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor when Harry glances up, but his face is bright red and there’s a new emotion in his eyes. _Hope_ , Harry decides. Hope and fear, in equal measures. 

 

They start making their way back through the forest, neither of them saying anything else until they can glimpse the moss green of the tent through the grey columns of the trees. Ron ambles to a stop and Harry automatically slows down as well and turns to look at his friend. 

 

”Before we —” Ron cuts himself off and shoots a glance at the tent over Harry’s shoulder, then meets his eyes. ”Should we talk about what just happened? I mean, with — with Snape…”

 

”What?” Harry says, keenly aware that he’s become defensive and tries to relax. ”He just showed up and saved me. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

 

Ron frowns, ”He saved you?”

 

”Yeah. From drowning”, Harry says shortly, jutting his chin up defiantly as he waits for the tirade of _slimy, murdering git_ that he is sure to come. 

 

”He saved you”, Ron says again, and it’s barely a question this time. 

 

”Yeah, he saved my life”, Harry says anyway. ”Again. And then he destroyed the Horcrux. What else do you want me to say?”

 

”Mate…” Ron murmurs and holds out a hand as if to calm, which makes Harry bristle further because _he_ is _bloody calm_ , and he opens his mouth to snap just that to Ron, but before he can get the words out, Ron’s hand goes up further as if to say, _Hey, no offense,_ ”No, really, mate, I’m not… I’m not having a go… I’m just in shock — aren’t you shocked? — we all thought Snape was a traitor, didn’t we? So —”

 

”So _What?_ ”

 

” _So,_ why aren’t you surprised that he showed up from out of nowhere and saved your life out here in the middle of nowhere and then helped us destroy a bloody _Horcrux,_ when he’s supposed to be on the side of You-Know-Who?”

 

”I was…” Harry mumbles. ”I…” 

 

He sighs heavily, and then decides to tell Ron about the dream that turned out not to have been a dream at all. He skims over the kissing part, and just tells Ron that Snape had been leaning over him and whispering his name, and later when he woke up properly he’d found the Potions book on the floor next to the bed. 

 

”But… But why would he risk everything just to give you that book? And why was he trying to wake you if he was just going to cast a sleeping spell on you again?”

 

”Er… I’m not sure… ” Harry lies, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot. 

 

Ron groans suddenly and shoves Harry half-heartedly in the chest. The familiarity of it strikes Harry with such force that he almost forgets where they are and what they’re talking about, and after having staggered back a step, he swats at Ron’s arm just as playfully. 

 

”What?” he demands. 

 

”You _kissed him_ , didn’t you?” Ron demands. 

 

Harry’s stomach plummets and he stares aghast at his friend. His brain is screaming at at him to come up with a lie, an excuse, a diversion, but all he can do is blink stupidly. Ron groans again. 

 

”I can’t believe you have a thing for that _greasy git_ —!”

 

”H-Hey —” Harry starts protesting feebly. 

 

 _”You kissed_ Snape!” Ron exclaims and gives him a miserable look. ”Mate, that’s — that’s just — _why_? Why would you _do_ that?”

 

”I thought I was dreaming —”

 

”Why would you be dreaming about _kissing Snape?_ Is that who you kept having sex dreams about at school? Oh, man, that is just… that’s _gross!_ And —!”

 

He points an accusating finger at Harry. 

 

”All those things that the Horcrux said, about you being attracted to —”

 

”I’m _not_ attracted to Malfoy!” Harry says firmly. 

 

”What?” Ron frowns in confusion. ” _No._ No, I know _that._ But the part about confessing your feelings for the git… Oh, _please,_ tell me you didn’t…”

 

”I might have mentioned having a crush on him”, Harry mutters. ”But that was before — before that night —!”

 

” _Before_!” Ron yelps. ”How long have you fancied him?”

 

”Er… Since I stayed with him last summer… But I didn’t realise it at first! I didn’t even know I was into blokes before then so… it took me a while to work it out…”

 

”Bloody Hell… And you still… _you know_ , fancy him? You still… _like_ him?”

 

Harry hasn’t even had time to ask that question of himself, but now that Ron puts him on the spot the answer is clear as ice. He nods, giving Ron a sheepish look. 

 

Ron just shakes his head like Harry has just disappointed him so deeply he can’t even find the words to berate him with. But then his shoulders sag slightly and he sighs. 

 

”Well”, he says. ”I don’t get it. But… At least we know he’s on our side now. So… it could have been worse, I suppose…”

 

Harry feels a surge of relief and gives his friend a tentative half-smile. Ron shrugs again, then reaches out and pulls Harry into a one-armed hug. 

 

”Harry? Harry what —?” Hermione’s muffled voice calls out and the boys spring apart. 

 

They can see her just outside the tent, looking around in worry and wringing her hands. 

 

”Come on”, Harry says.

 

They hurry over to Hermione, who stumbles back with a gasp when she sees Ron. He gives her a weak but hopeful smile and starts raising his arms as if getting ready for a hug when she lurches forward and immediately starts slapping and punching every bit of him that she can reach. The Sword of Gryffindor clatters to the frozen ground as Ron tries to shield himself from her blows.

 

”Ouch — _ow_ — what’re you — Hermione — OW!”

 

”You — complete — _arse_ — Ronald — Weasley!” 

 

Harry stays rooted to the spot for a moment, unsure whether he should try and break up the fight. But then he decides it’s probably better if he doesn’t get involved and backs away from his two friends. 

 

”Ow! Gerroff —!”

 

”You — crawl — back — here —!”

 

”Her- Hermione — ouch —!”

 

”— after — weeks — and weeks — oh! _Where is my wands?_ ”

 

Harry startles as Hermione suddenly stops assaulting Ron and whirls around to face him instead, holding out her hand expectantly. Her eyes are flashing and her hair seems even frizzier than usual, as if she was literally shooting sparks and her hair had gone static from it. 

 

” _Protego!_ ” he says quickly, casting the charm instinctively around Ron and himself. 

 

The force of it knocks Hermione backwards and she sits down hard on the ground before immediately scrambling to her feet again. 

 

”Hermione, calm —!”

 

”I will _not_ calm down!” she screams at him. ”Give me back my wand, Harry! _Give it to me_!”

 

”Hermione, will you _please_ —” 

 

”Don’t you tell me what to do, Harry Potter! Don’t you dare! And _you_ —!”

 

She rounds on Ron again, who stumbles back in fear despite the protection of the Shield Charm Harry has cast between them and Hermione. 

 

”I came running after you!” Hermione screeches, eyes shining with unshed tears. ”I called you! I begged you to come back!”

 

”I know”, Ron says in a small, quivering voice. ”I’m sorry, Hermione, I’m really —”

 

”Oh, you’re _sorry,_ are you? You come back after weeks — _weeks_ — and you think it’s all going to be all right if you just say _sorry_?”

 

”Hermione —” Harry tries to mediate again. 

 

”No!” she bellows. ”It’s been weeks! We could have been _dead_ for all he knew —!”

 

”I knew you weren’t _dead_!” Ron bellows back, his ears red. ”Harry’s all over the _Prophet,_ all over the the radio, they’re looking for you everywhere, all these rumours and mental stories, I knew I’d hear straight away if you were dead, you don’t know what it’s been like —”

 

”What _it’s been like?_ For _you_?” Hermione screams, her voice more shrill than Harry has ever heard it before. 

 

”I wanted to come back the minute I’d Disapparated”, Ron says and steps as close to her as the Shield Charm will allow, his eyes beseeching. ”But I walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione, and I couldn’t go anywhere!”

 

”A gang of what?” Harry interjects. 

 

”Snatchers”, Ron repeats, without tearing his gaze away from Hermione. ”They’re everywhere. Gangs trying to earn gold by rounding up Muggle-borns and blood-traitors. There’s a reward from the Ministry for everyone captured, see. I was on my own and I look like I might be school age, so they got really excited, thought I was a Muggle-born in hiding. I had to talk really fast to get out of being dragged to the Ministry, I’ll tell you…”

 

”What did you tell them?” Harry asks curiously, when it becomes clear that Hermione won’t be saying anything else anytime soon. 

 

”Told them I was Stan Shunpike. First person I could think of… They weren’t the brightest though, but they did start fighting amongst themselves over whether I was Stan or not… Two of them got into a real scuffle, and while they were all distracted I punched the guy holding me in the stomach, grabbed his wand and Disarmed the bloke who had my wand, then I Disapparated again… I didn’t do it so well, Splinched myself again…”

 

He holds up his hand and Harry notices two fingernails missing that he hadn’t seen before. Hermione merely raises an eyebrow coldly. 

 

”Anyway”, Ron says. ”By the time I found my way back to the riverbank, you’d gone…”

 

”Gosh, what a gripping story”, Hermione says airily, but her eyes are still flashing behind the layer of still unshed tears. ”You must have been terrified. Meanwhile, Harry and I went to Godric’s Hollow, and let’s think, what happened to us there Harry? Oh yes, You-Know-Who’s snake turned up and nearly killed us both — ”

 

Ron looks stricken and opens his mouth to say something, but Hermione ploughs on in an even louder voice. 

 

”And then _You-Know-Who himself_ arrived and only missed us by _seconds_ —!”

 

”What!” Ron gasps, and looks over at Harry for confirmation and Harry gives him a small nod. 

 

”Imagine losing fingernails, Harry!” Hermione continues scatchingly. ”That really puts our suffering into perspective, doesn’t it! One thing I would like to know though, how exactly _did_ you find us? We need to know so we can prevent anyone else _we don’t want to see_ from finding us!”

 

Ron glares at her, then pulls a small silver object from his jeans pocket. 

 

”This”, he says simply. 

 

”Dumbledore’s Deluminator?” she says, surprised. 

 

”It doesn’t just turn the lights on and off”, Ron tells them both. ”I don’t know how it works exactly, or why it happened then and not any other time, because I’ve been wanting to come back ever since I left, but I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas morning and I heard… well, I heard you…”

 

”You heard _me_ on the _radio_?” Hermione asks incredulously. 

 

”No, not on the radio. From my pocket. You voice… it came out of the Deluminator.”

 

”And what exactly did I say?” Hermione says, clearly trying to keep her tone sarcastic but a bit of curiosity was shining through now. 

 

”My name”, he says simply. ”And something about a wand…”

 

Harry remembers the brief conversation he and Hermione had had about Harry’s broken wand when he came to in the tent; that had been the first time either of them had mentioned Ron by name since he left them. Hermione, whose face is now burning red, seems to have come to the same conclusion because she shoots Harry a stricken look before resolutely looking away again. 

 

”So I took it out”, Ron continues. ”It didn’t look different or anything, but I was sure I’d heard you. So I clicked it. All the lights went out in the room, but another light appeared just outside my window… It was like aball of light, kind of pulsing and sort of blue like the light around a Portkey, you know?”

 

”Yeah”, Harry and Hermione automatically murmur together. 

 

”I grabbed my stuff and went out into the garden, and the ball of light was waiting for me, and when I came out it sort of bobbed along a bit and I followed it behind this shed and then it… well, it went inside me. Into my chest”, he touches his hand to heart. ”I could feel it, it was hot. And once it was inside me I just knew what I was supposed to do. I Disapparated and came out on the side of a hill, there was snow everywhere…”

 

”We were there!” Harry exclaims. ”We spent two nights there, and the second night I was sure I heard someone moving around and calling out!”

 

”Yeah, that would have been me”, Ron says. ”Well, your protective spells work, anyway… I couldn’t see or hear you. But I knew you must be around, so I got my sleeping bag out and decided to wait. I figured you’d have to show yourself when you were packing up the tent at least.”

 

”We’ve been Disapparating under the Invisibility Cloak as an extra precaution since — ” Hermione cuts herself off and glances over at Harry quickly, and he realises she must have been about to mention Snape but not knowing that he’d already told Ron about it, she swiftly comes up with something else. ”Well, since we’d heard someone blundering about…”

 

”Yeah, when it started to get dark I realised I must have missed you, so I got the Deluminator out again. When I Disapparated this time, I arrived here in these woods. I still couldn’t see you, so again I just had to wait and hope that one of you would show yourself, and then Harry did — well, I saw the doe first, obviously —”

 

”You saw _the doe_?” Harry says. 

 

”The _what_?” Hermione demands. 

 

”Um, let’s go inside”, Harry says quickly. ”It’s a long story, and Ron and I are both freezing… are you… going to start throwing punches again?” he adds cautiously. 

 

Hermione sniffs indignantly, then whirls around and storms back inside the tent. Ron and Harry exchange a wary look, then follow her. 

 

Hermione is staring wide-eyed between the two of them as Harry finishes the story, then blinks rapidly a few times as if trying to bat the images away again. 

 

” _Snape_ … saved your life…” she all but whispers. ” _Oh, Harry…_ ”

 

He lets a tentative smile twitch into place and nods minutely, ”Yeah, he’s on our side. Somehow. I don’t understand it, I mean he _did_ kill Dumbledore, but… There must be some explanation. Because he’s definitely on our side, not Vol—”

 

” _No!_ ” Ron gasps suddenly and smacks his hand hard against Harry’s face and knocks his glasses askew. 

 

”What— the Hell—” Harry mumbles against his palm before wrenching away from his grasp. 

 

”I almost forgot to tell you!” Ron says, deathly pale. ”You can’t say that name. The Death Eaters have put a _Taboo_ on it. Anyone says You-Know-Who’s name and they’re alerted immediately. That’s how they found us so quickly after the wedding, remember?”

 

”Oh shit…” Harry mumbles. 

 

”Yeah… So, just… You-Know-Who, from now on, okay?” Ron says, then glances over at Hermione with a suspiscious look. ”Hey, you don’t seem at all surprised about this Harry fancying Snape business. You already knew, didn’t you? Harry told you, didn’t he?”

 

Ron turns back to Harry with an accusating look, ”You told her, but not me!”

 

”So what if he did!” Hermione snarls. ”What would you have done if he’d told you? How would you have reacted?”

 

Ron frowns, ”Well, I might not have taken it completely in stride, I mean it’s bloody Snape, innit — But I wouldn’t have had a problem with it or anything! — _I wouldn’t!_ ”

 

Hermione merely sniffs derisively. 

 

”Look, guys, it doesn’t matter”, Harry says. ”We’re one Horcrux down, _and_ we have the Sword. This is great news. We shouldn’t be fighting —”

 

Hermione just shakes her head and stalks over to her bed and burrows under the blankets without another word. Harry and Ron exchange a look, but Ron smiles a little and shrugs. 

 

”To be honest, I expected worse”, he says quietly. ”Remember those birds she set on me in Fourth Year?”

 

” _I still haven’t ruled it out_!” Hermione’s muffled voice comes from beneath her blankets. 

 

Harry stifles a smile and gives Ron a gentle pat on the shoulder before going to his own bunk. Ron gestures vaguely to the opening of the tent, offering to take over the watch. 

 

Harry pulls out the Marauder’s Map and murmurs ” _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ ”, then holds his breath as the scarlet outline of Hogwarts stretches out like intricate ink stains on the parchment. He quickly scans the Great Hall for any sign of the little black dot labelled _Severus Snape_ but it seems breakfast is nearing its end, so he flips one of the folds of the Map until he can see the Headmaster’s Office instead, and there, to his immense relief, Snape is sitting at his desk. 

 

 _He made it back alright,_ Harry thinks happily and feels a faint flutter in his belly. 

 

For the first time in a long time, Harry allows himself to think of Severus and his silky hair and even silkier voice, and he doesn’t even feel guilty about it. _Because Severus is on our side_ , he thinks and his heart leaps with joy.

 

 

*

 

Harry offers to take the first watch and sits down in the tent opening, practising with the blackthorn wand that Ron had taken from one of the Snatchers by levitating pebbles at his feet and although he can get the spell to work properly, his magic feels clumsy with this new and unfamiliar wand. _Still,_ he thinks, _better to have a less powerful wand than no wand at all._

 

Hermione is lying in her bed reading _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ and Ron is fiddling with a Wireless, trying to tune into a particular programme that he tells Harry is different from the others. 

 

”This one tells the news as it really is. All the others are on You-Know-Who’s side and following the Ministry line, but this one… Well, just wait ’til you hear it, it’s brilliant… Only, they can’t broadcast every night, because they have to keep changing their location in case of a raid, and also you need a password to tune in, problem is I missed the last one…”

 

He keeps tapping the Wireless with his wand while muttering different possible passwords under his breath, once in a while throwing cautious looks over at Hermione, clearly wary of an angry outburst, but she is still ignoring him. 

 

After a while, she hops down from her bunk however and Ron immediately stops tapping the Wireless just in case. Hermione doesn’t even look his way however, instead she walks over to Harry. 

 

”We need to talk”, she says seriously. 

 

”Why?” he says and eyes the book in her hand warily, knowing there’s supposed to be a chapter on him in there and he really doesn’t want to hear what Rita Skeeter thinks of his relationship with Dumbledore. 

 

”I want to go and see Xenophilius Lovegood”, Hermione says, surprising him. 

 

”Er — why?”

 

”It’s the mark, the mark in _Beedle the Bard._ Look at this…”

 

She shows him the book and Harry notices a photograph of the original letter from Dumbledore to Grindelwald and his stomach turns unpleasantly. 

 

”The signature, Harry”, Hermione says. ”Look at the signature!”

 

He can’t tell what she’s talking about at first, but lifting the blackthorn wand and casting a _Lumos_ and peering more closely at the signature he realises that Dumbledore had replaced the _A_ in _Albus_ with that triangular symbol. 

 

”It keeps cropping up doesn’t it!” Hermione insists. 

 

Harry turns back around and looks out into the darkness. He’s so sick and tired of trying to decipher possible clues that Dumbledore might or might not have left them. _Why couldn’t he just have told me some of this stuff while he was alive?_ he thinks furiously. _All those meetings in his office, looking at memories together, he could just have told me!_

 

 _Snape would have told me,_ he thinks suddenly and the thought surprises him. But all the same, he knows it to be true, somehow, he just knows… Thinking back to that night by the pool, the stress in the man’s face when he’d been forced to come face to face with Harry sooner than he’d planned… Because Harry had _bungled everything up,_ forcing him to make himself known… _Clearly he’d wanted to tell me everything, but there wasn’t time, he even said so himself_ , Harry thinks. _He’d said something about the Carrows noticing his absence from Hogwarts, and that he didn’t have time to answer questions_ — stupid _questions_ , Harry corrects himself with a wry smile; _why embelish…_  

 

”Harry?” Hermione says tentatively, and his smile slips away again. 

 

”No”, he says. ”We don’t need another Godric’s Hollow. We talked ourselves into going there and —”

 

”But it keeps appearing, Harry! A symbol that links Dumbledore, Grindelwald and Godric’s Hollow? Come on, this must be important! And it’s not like we can ask Dumbledore or Grindelwald, I don’t even know if Grindelwald is still alive, but we know that Mr. Lovegood wore the symbol at the wedding and we can talk to _him_!”

 

”I think Hermione is right”, Ron pipes up from behind them. ”We should go talk to Lovegood!”

 

Harry barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Hermione huffs a little to herself. 

 

”It won’t be like Godric’s Hollow”, Ron adds. ”Lovegood’s on our side, Harry. _The Quibbler_ keeps telling everyone they’ve got to help you!”

 

”I’m sure this is important”, Hermione says earnestly. 

 

”If it was, don’t you think Dumbledore would have told me?” Harry says, but it rings hollow even to his own ears, because Dumbledore hadn’t told him nearly anything, had he? 

 

”Maybe… Maybe it’s something that you need to find out for yourself?” Hermione suggests vaguely and Harry gets the sense that she isn’t even buying that herself. 

 

”Yeah, that makes sense!” Ron pipes up again. 

 

”No, it doesn’t!” Hermione snaps at him. ”But I still think we ought to talk to Mr. Lovegood.”

 

”Why don’t we vote on it?” Ron suggests, and Harry does roll his eyes this time. 

 

”Fine, we’ll go”, he mutters and jabs at a pebble with the tip of his wand, accidentally causing it to crumble. 

 

 

*

 

The wind on top of the hill whips their hair and clothes. Harry has to clutch the Invisibility Cloak, that Hermione has forced him to wear, tightly in both hands so that it doesn’t fly off him. But as they reach the top of the zigzagging path, Hermione suggests he take the Cloak off again. 

 

”It’s you Mr. Lovegood wants to help, not us”, she says. 

 

After having stowed his Cloak into her beaded bag, Hermione raps on the front door of the weird looking house, forgoing the eagle-shaped knocker and simply rapping her knuckles against the wood. The door creaks open almost immediately and a barefoot man wearing a stained nightshirt sticks his head out and peers down at them suspiciously. His long, white, candyfloss hair is dirty and unkempt, Harry notices and there are shadows under his eyes. 

 

”What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?” he cries, looking first at Hermoine, then Ron and then finally Harry and his eyes widen in recognition. 

 

”Hello, Mr. Lovegood”, Harry says politely, extending his hand in greeting. ”I’m Harry, Harry Potter.”

 

Xenophilius’ non-lazy eye immediately shoots up to the lightening bolt scar on Harry’s forehead and he seems to clutch the door harder. He doesn’t shake Harry’s hand, and Harry feels a bit disappointed. He’s not sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. 

 

”Is it okay if we come in for a minute? There’s something we’d like to ask you…”

 

Xenophilius mumbles something to himself, his gaze scanning the garden nervously. 

 

”It won’t take long”, Harry insists. 

 

”I — oh, all right then. Come in, quickly. _Quickly_!”

 

He ushers all three of them over the threshold and then slams the door shut again, locking several bolts as soon as it’s closed. 

 

Harry looks around at the circular kitchen that they’ve entered into and is only mildly surprised at the weird but colourful decor, this is Luna’s home after all, so nothing should really have surprised him. Speaking of which, he thinks and glances up at the ceiling. From the floor above a lot of clanging and clattering can be heard and he wonders what Luna is doing up there. It’s still Christmas hols after all, so she should be home and he knows she and her dad live alone, her mother having died when Luna was a little girl. 

 

”You’d better come upstairs”, Xenophilius mutters and leads the way up the spiral staircase. 

 

The room on the top floor seems to be a living room and workplace in one, and is even more cluttered than the kitchen. Luna isn’t here though, as Harry had expected. The thing that’s making the noises he’d heard from downstairs is actually a printing press churning out copies of _The Quibbler._ Xenophilius quickly covers the entire thing with a big blanket, then moves over to one of the windows and peers out nervously. 

 

”Why have you come here?” he asks Harry without tearing his gaze away.

 

When Harry explains that they need his help, the man casts a shifty glance between the three of them and the spiral staircase before turning back to the window again, all the while muttering to himself and Harry can clearly make out the words _Helping Harry Potter_ and _Dangerous._ He feels a surge of irritation. 

 

”Aren’t you the one who keeps telling everyone that it’s their first duty to help Harry, in that magazine of yours?” Ron demands, obviously feeling the same way. 

 

”Where’s Luna?” Hermione says. ”Let’s see what she thinks!”

 

Xenophilius gulps, then seems to steel himself.

 

”Yes, all right”, he says in a shaky voice and his non-lazy eye comes to rest on Harry. ”Luna is down by the stream fishing for Freshwater Plimpies, I’ll go and call her and then — yes, then I shall try and help you…”

 

He disappears down the spiral staircase again and after a moment they hear the front door open and close. When he comes back, he is carrying a tray with four teacups and a steaming teapot, but no Luna. 

 

”May I offer you all an infusion of Gurdyroots? We make it ourselves”, he says and starts to pour out the drink into the cups. ”Luna is most excited that you are here. She ought not be too long… Now, how may I help you, Mr Potter?”

 

After Hermione has read the story of the Three Brothers from her copy of _Beedle the Bard,_ Xenophilius, who has been gazing out of the window the entire time, seems to shake himself out of his thoughts and says, ”Well, there you are. The Deathly Hallows.”

 

”Sorry?” Hermione says, frowning in confusion. 

 

”The Elder wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility… Together they make The Deathly Hallows”, Xenophilius explains and draws the symbol on a bit of parchment. 

 

”But there is no mention of Deathly Hallows in the story!” Hermione says. 

 

”Well, no, of course not. That is a children’s tale, told to amuse not instruct. But those of us who truly belive recognises that the ancient story refers to three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor a master of Death.”

 

”Do you mean”, Hermione says slowly, clearly trying not to sound too sceptic. ”That you believe these objects — these Hallows — actually exist?”

 

”Well, of course!”

 

Hermione is steadily losing the struggle with her own face that is soon contorted with a mix of scepticism and exasperation. Before she can build up enough steam over the existence of a stone with the power to reverse death to send her inte a full-fledged tirade, Harry cuts in and asks Mr Lovegood about the Elder Wand instead. 

 

Hermione listens to the man’s theories about the wand with a frown on her face, but this time she doesn’t bother contradicting his beliefs, instead she asks him about the Peverell family. The name rings a bell, but Harry can’t think of where he’s heard it before. 

 

”That was the name on the grave with the mark on it in Godric’s Hollow”, Hermione explains, still watching Xenophilius closely. 

 

”Exactly!” Xenophilius exclaims with a look of triumph on his face. ”The sign of the Deathly Hallows on Ignotus Peverell’s grave is conclusive proof that the three brothers in the story were actually the three Peverell brothers, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus! That they were the original owners of the Hallows!”

 

With another glance out the window, the man springs into action and disappears down the spiral staircase once more, calling out over his shoulder that they must stay for dinner with him and Luna. 

 

” _Everybody always requests our recipy for Freshwater Plimpy soup!_ ” they hear him call out from the kitchen. 

 

”Probably to show to the Poisoning Department at St Mungo’s”, Ron mutters and pours his Gurdyroot infusion back into the teapot. 

 

He and Hermione seem disappointed and Harry has to agree with them that Xenophilius theories about the children’s tale being based on true events and that such death-defying objects would actually exist seems very far-fetched, even though Harry does possess one of them. _Still_ , he figures, they should have known better than to get their hopes up. This is after all the man who has raised Luna Lovegood. 

 

Harry tunes out a whispered agrument between Ron and Hermione over the properties of Harry’s Invisibility Cloak and walks over to the spiral staircase to glance up to the top floor… A putrid smell is now wafting up from the kitchen and Harry wonders how much of the horrid Plimpy soup he would have to force himself to eat so as not to appear rude… He tilt his head and stares up the staircase and for a second he catches a glimpse of what he believes to be a mirror, but then realises it can’t be, the face staring back at him is too still and the angle is all wrong… _It’s a painting, it’s a painting of me,_ he thinks and curiously walks up the stairs to take a better look. 

 

”Harry!” Hermione whispers after him. ”I don’t think you should look around when he’s not here!”

 

Harry ignores her and steps into the room on the next level of the house. It’s clearly Luna’s room, her colourful personality seems to scream from every surface and in the sightly slanted ceiling five large portraits have been painted, including the one of Harry that he first had mistaken for a mirror. The other portraits are of Ron, Hermoine, Ginny and Neville, all of them linked together with a chain of golden letters spelling out the word ’friends’ over and over, and Harry feels a surge of fondness for Luna at the sight. None of the portraits are moving like magical portraits usually do, but they aren’t exactly still as muggle paintings either, because Harry somehow gets the feeling that all five of them are breathing, and watching him passively. 

 

He smiles a little to himself and looks around the room once more. There is one other picture in the room, but it’s a framed photograph not a painting, and like all magical photographs the people in it are moving, hugging each other to be exact, and Harry walks closer to the nightstand on with the photograph is standing and bends to look closer at it. The little girl in the picture is defininitely Luna and the young woman whose lap she’s sitting on must be her mother, Harry guesses. She is quite pretty and has the same dreamy look in her eyes that Luna usually has… 

 

The smile on Harry’s face stiffens when he realises that that picture is dusty. _That’s odd_ , he thinks and has another look around the room… _Something is wrong…_ The pale blue carpet is also thick with dust and the wardrobe is gaping at him, completely empty of clothes… The bed is made, but Harry gets the feeling that it hasn’t been slept in in quite a while. 

 

”What’s wrong?” Hermione says immediately when Harry descends the stairs. 

 

Harry opens his mouth to voice his concerns, but before he has a chance to say anything, they’re joined again by Xenophilius who is carrying another tray, this one laden with four bowls of foul-smelling soup. 

 

”Mr Lovegood, where is Luna?” Harry says. 

 

The man halts on the top step of the staircase and his shifty eye flits between the three of them, and the window. 

 

”I- I’ve told you, she’s down at the stream fishing for Plimpies…”

 

”So why have you only laid that tray for four?”

 

Xenophilius drops the tray and the bowls smash against the floor, soup splattering all over the place. Harry, Ron and Hermione have all drawn their wands before Xenophilius has even managed to reach into his pocket, and he freezes, staring between them in horror. 

 

At that moment, the printing press stops clanking and one of the freshly printed copies of _The Quibbler_ spills onto the floor from beneath the blanket. Hermione stoops to pick it up and her face grows even more grim as she holds it up for the boys to see. On the cover is the familiar picture of Harry with the headline _’Undesirable Number One’_ printed in fat, red letters followed by the Ministry reward sum. 

 

” _The Quibbler_ going for a new angle?” Harry says cooly, but his mind is racing in panic. ”Is that what you were doing when you went outside then, owl the Ministry?”

 

Xenophilius seems to be trembling slightly and he licks his lips, then finally whispers, ”They took my Luna… Because of what I’ve been writing, they took my Luna and I don’t know where she is, what they’ve done to her… But they m- might give her b- back if I — if I —”

 

”Hand over Harry?” Hermione says coldly. 

 

”No deal”, Ron says. ”Get out of the way, we’re leaving.”

 

Xenophilius spreads his arms and blocks the staircase to prevent them from leaving, and Harry has a sudden vision of his own mother standing between Voldemort and Harry’s crib in a similar way, arms spread wide and a desperate, pleading look in her eyes, like the one in Mr Lovegood’s good eye right now. 

 

Everything happens really fast. 

 

Hermione screams Harry’s name and he whips his head around and sees figures on broomsticks flying past the windows, only realising his mistake when it’s too late, catching the movement of Lovegood drawing his wand in the corner of his eye, Harry barely has time to throw himself to the side before the Stunning Spell soars across the room. 

 

There is a massive explosion; wood and paper and rubble fly in all directions; Harry hits the floor with a hard thud and quickly throws his arms over his head to shield himself from the flying debris, vaguely aware of Hermione and Ron screaming, and Lovegood crashing to the floor below. 

 

”I told you last week, Lovegood, we weren’t coming back for anything less than solid information—!” a furious voice yells from the level below, his angry outbursts punctuated by muffled shouts of pain from Xenophilius. ”And now it turns out you only called us here to blow us up —!”

 

”No, no, please, I beg you, Potter is upstairs! _I swear_! Potter is upstairs —!” Xenophilius sobs. 

 

” _You lying piece of filth!_ Thought you would lure us here to kill us, did you? And you think you’ll get your girl back that way?”

 

”I swear… I swear… Potter’s upstairs!”

 

 ”Let’s get out of here”, Harry whispers and the three of them climb as quietly as they can manage through the rubble. 

 

Hermione tells Ron to put on the Invisibility Cloak and grab her shoulder, then gripping her wand tightly in one hand, she grabs Harry’s hand with her other and stares at the broken printing press that is blocking the stairs. 

 

”Hold tight”, she whispers. 

 

When Xenophilius finally manages to shift the printing press and they can see his paper-white face, Hermione swiftly obliviates him and then blasts a hole in the floor through which the three of them fall like boulders… There is a starled scream from the Death Eaters below as they’re hit by planks of wood and other rubble… Hermione manages to twist in mid-air and the three of them are swallowed up by darkness. 

 

Harry feels himself connect with the ground and lets go of Hermione’s hand again. He pants for breath, while swiping his hand over the grass next to his body, before scrambling to his feet. Hermione is already running around putting up the protective charms and Harry allows himself a moment to catch his breath and hopefully calm his heartrate down. 

 

”That treacherous old bleeder!” Ron gasps as he throws off the Invisibility Cloak and tosses it to Harry. ”Hermoine, you are a genius! I can’t believe we got out of that! — What do you reckon they’ll do to him?”

 

”Oh, I hope they don’t kill him”, Hermione moans. ”That’s why I wanted the Death Eaters to get a glimpse of Harry before we left, so they’d know Mr Lovegood wasn’t lying to them…”

 

They put up the tent and once inside Ron makes them all a cup of tea. After yet another narrow escape,  with adrenalin still pumping through his body, sitting in the familiar musty old tent with his cold hands wrapped around a warm mug, Harry feels like he’s home. 

 

”Oh, why did we go there”, Hermione wails. ”Harry you were right, it was Godric’s Hollow all over again! A complete waste of time!… Deathly Hallows… _such rubbish_!”

 

They launch into another discussion about the three Hallows and the odds of their existence and talk in circles for a few minutes until Harry decides to change to subject and asks Hermione is she knows anything about the Peverell family, still sure he’s heard the name somewhere but can’t put his finger on where… Hermione shakes her head, a look of irritation flashing in her eyes, which tends to happen whenever she is asked a question to which she doesn’t know the answer. 

 

”I looked up Ignotus Peverell after that night in Godric’s Hollow, if he’d been famous or done anything important he was bound to show up in one of my books, but the only reference to the name Peverell that I could find was in _Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ , that I borrows from Kreacher”, she says, and Ron raises his eyebrows. ”It lists the pure-blood families that are now extinct in the male line, and apparently the Peverells were one of the earliest families to vanish… their name died out centuries ago. They could still have descendants though, only they’d be called something different, since it’s customary when a witch and wizard get married that the witch takes on her husband’s name…”

 

”I thought that was common practise for muggles too?” Ron interjects. 

 

”Yes, of course”, Hermione agrees. ”I meant to say when a man and woman get married, I suppose, as opposed to two men, or two women…”

 

”Oh right”, Ron says and nods in understanding. 

 

He then gives Harry an apprehensive, sideway glance as if worried that the mention of two men getting married might somehow give Harry ideas. But Harry is barely even paying attention to what his friends are saying anymore, because he suddenly remembers where he’s heard the name Peverell before.

 

”Marvolo Gaunt!” he exclaims, and when Ron and Hermione only give him questioning looks he hurries to explain, but he can barely get the words out properly, his mind racing. ”I-In the Pensive — with Dumbledore — I saw him, Gaunt, Marvolo Gaunt — _You-Know-Who’s grandfather —!”_

 

 _”What?”_ Hermione gasps. ”Wait, slow down, Harry! What are you —?”

 

”He said he was descended from the Peverell’s! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverell’s in the memory Dumbledore showed me, the memory with the ring —!”

 

”What ring —?” Ron says, looking even more bewildered. 

 

”The one that became a Horcrux!” Harry all but hollers at him, barely refraining from shaking him. ”The ring that Dumbledore destroyed. It belonged to Vol — er — You-Know-Who’s grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt, and he said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it!”

 

”The Peverell coat of arms?” Hermione says sharply. ”Could you see what it looked like?”

 

”Not really”, Harry admits. ”There was nothing fancy on there, I remember that. Just looked like some scratches, but then I only ever saw it up-close after it had been cracked open… But don’t you see? _It all fits!_ ”

 

”Harry…” Hermione says cautiously. ”It doesn’t necessarily —”

 

”It fits!” Harry says firmly. ”And it was a stone in that ring, wasn’t there?”

 

”Blimey”, Ron says. ”You don’t think it was the —”

 

”The Resurrection Stone? _Why not?_ ” Harry says ecstatically. 

 

”You think it would still work, even after Dumbledore broke —?”

 

”Work? _Work?_ ” Hermione says shrilly, jumping to her feet. ”Ron, it _never worked!_ There’s not such thing as a Resurrection Stone! It’s just a story!”

 

”Hermione, I know the sign of the Deathly Hallows was on that stone”, Harry says. ”And Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverell’s!”

 

”A minute ago you told us you never saw the mark on the stone clearly! You said it just looked like some scratches!”

 

But Harry just shakes his head at her, refusing to listen. His mind is going a mile a minute… Three objects, one of which is already in Harry’s possession, and if he can only find the other two… _if united they make a Master of death…_ Harry can picture it now, facing Voldemort with his Invisibility Cloak, the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand… Voldemort’s Horcruxes would be no match for the Deathly Hallows… _Neither can live while the other survives…_ What if this was Dumbledore’s secret plan all along? 

 

 _It all makes sense_ , Harry thinks giddily as hope flares up in his chest once more. 

 

”Dumbledore borrowed the Invisibility Cloak from my dad, he had it that night when they were killed”, he says, almost to himself. ”Why would Dumbledore need to borrow an Invisibility Cloak when he could cast such a powerful Disillusionment Charm that it would make him completely invisible? Because he wanted to study it, to see if it was the real deal, if it was one of the Hallows! It all makes sense…”

 

”No, Harry, it doesn’t —!” Hermione insists desperately. 

 

”My mum told Sirius in that letter that Dumbledore had borrowed the Cloak!” Harry insists and starts rifling through his pouch. ”Dumbledore borrowed the Cloak even though he had no need for it, because he wanted to study it, because he believed it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell is buried in Godric’s Hollow, what if he’s my ancestor and that’s why my dad had the Cloak in the first place?”

 

He finally finds the letter from his mum and thrusts it at Hermione, vaguely aware of a _clang_ as something else tumbled out of the pouch and fell to the floor. 

 

”Read it!” he urges Hermione, then looks around for whatever else fell out of the pouch. 

 

When he catches the glint of the Golden Snitch, another certainty plummets into his mind and he gasps. 

 

”What, what?” Ron says quickly. 

 

Harry stoops and picks up the Snitch, heart hammering hard in his chest… _I open at the close…_  

 

What if… What if Dumbledore had it all worked out for him, what if he hadn’t left him with nothing in the dark after all… 

 

He already had one of the Hallows, maybe he even had two…

 

”It’s in here!” he says. ”Dumbledore left me the ring — it’s in the Snitch! I’m sure of it!”

 

”You — you reckon?” Ron says, staring at Harry with wide, almost frightened eyes. 

 

Harry has never been more certain of anything in his life. He just _knows_ Dumbledore left the ring with the Resurrection Stone in the Snitch for him to find… if only he knew how to open it… _I open at the close… whatever that means,_ Harry thinks. But at least he has it. He has two of the three Hallows, now all he needs is the Elder Wand, and maybe he’ll actually stand a chance against Voldemort after all… 

 

”The Elder Wand”, he murmurs. 

 

With a sinking feeling, ice-cold clarity fills him and he knows what Voldemort is after finally. Not a new wand, on the contrary, a very old wand… the most powerful wand in the world… the Elder wand. 

 


	23. Malfoy Manor

Harry is sitting in the tent entrance, staring at some hyacinths defying the cold, but not really seeing them. His thoughts are a jumble of recollected visions of Voldemort and his own disjointed memories as he tries to work out where the Elder Wand could be, and if Voldemort is in fact aware of the Deathly Hallows or if he has just heard of this one wand said to be unbeatable… _If he really knew about the Hallows, would he really have made the Resurrection Stone into a Horcrux?_

 

Harry sighs to himself. He really wishes he had someone to brainstorm with… But neither Ron nor Hermione want to waste their time talking about the Deathly Hallows, firmly believing it to be a children’s story and that Harry’s obsession with it is only distracting him from the real mission Dumbledore gave him, which is to find and destroy the Horcruxes… _They don’t understand,_ Harry thinks. _With the Hallows I might actually stand a chance against Voldemort… Without them…_

 

_Neither can live while the other survives_

 

A bitter voice at the back of his mind mutters: _Why would they care though? It’s not_ them _that’s destined to go head to head with Voldemort —_

 

Harry shakes his head slightly, frowning to himself. _That’s unfair,_ he tells the voice. _Ron and Hermione care more than anyone… They’re here with me, aren’t they?_

 

For some reason Severus face flutters unbidden to the front of his mind. He sighs again. 

 

”I’ve got it, _I’ve got it!_ ” Ron’s voice rings out in the silence and Harry turns to look over his shoulder. ”Password was _’Albus’_! Get in here, Harry!”

 

Harry immediately scrambles inside the tent and joins his friends who are kneeling on the ground in front of the small radio, where the famous programme _Potterwatch_ had just started, and Harry feels a surge of excitement as an all-too-familiar voice can be heard from the tiny speaker. 

 

”But that’s Lee Jordan!” Hermoine gasps. 

 

”I know!” Ron beams. ”Cool, eh? They call him River. They’ve all got code names…”

 

They sit staring at the radio, listening raptly as Lee is joined by Kingsley Shacklebolt (code name Royal) and Remus Lupin (code name Romulus). 

 

”As regular listeners will know, several of the more outspoken supporters of Harry Potter have now been imprisoned, including Xenophilius Lovegood, erstwhile editor of _The Quibbler_ —”

 

”At least he’s still alive”, Ron mutters.

 

”We have also heard that Rubeus Hagrid —” Lupin continues seriously, and all three of them gasp and stare at each other in horror, _Nononono_ , Harry thinks desperately. _Not Hagrid, please, please,_ please _not Hagrid._

 

”— has narrowly escaped arrest within the grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumoured to have hosted a ’Support Harry Potter’ party in his house —”

 

Harry releases his breath in a half-chuckle, relief flooding his senses… _He’s alright, he escaped…_

 

”… and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumours circulating about the wizard we here on _Potterwatch_ like to refer to as the Chief Death Eater”, Lee continues. ”I’d like to introduce a new correspondent: Rodent.”

 

”’ _Rodent’_?” says yet another familiar voice indignantly. 

 

Harry, Ron and Hermione all cry out together: _”Fred!”_

 

”No — is it George?” Hermione says. 

 

”It’s Fred, I think”, Ron says, leaning closer to the radio as whichever twin it is says, ”I’m not being ’Rodent’, no way, I told you I wanted to be ’Rapier’!”

 

”Oh, all right then, Rapier, could you please give us your take on the various stories we’ve been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?”

 

”Yes, River, I can”, Fred or George says, then proceeds to tell them that You-Know-Who’s strategy to remain in the shadows has created quite a panic and, if all the alledged sightings of him were genuine, there would be at least nineteen You-Know-Whos running around the place.

 

”Which suits him, of course”, Kingsley intones. ”The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself…”

 

”Agreed”, Fred or George says. ”So, people, let’s calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. Take this most recent rumour for example, that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes… That’s a _Basilisk_ , listerners. So here’s one simple test: check whether the thing that’s glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it’s safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that’s still likely to be the last thing you do…”

 

For the first time in weeks, Harry is laughing. He can feel the tension seeping out of him as he listens to the familiar, happy-go-lucky attitude of the Weasley twins. 

 

”And the rumours that he keeps being sighted abroad?” Lee asks. 

 

”Well, who wouldn’t want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he’s been putting in?” 

 

Harry’s heart leaps; _Voldemort is still abroad? So he hasn’t found the Elder Wand yet!_

 

”Point is, people”, Fred or George continues seriously. ”Don’t get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he’s out of the country. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to —”

 

Ron starts to snicker, then, catching himself, suddenly seems to choke on his own tongue and throws Harry a startled look. 

 

Harry shakes his head dismissively and tries to smile good-naturedly, but the effect is surely ruined by the bright blush that is causing his cheeks to burn. 

 

Ron’s face quickly turns tomato-red as well, even as he clears his throat and tries to seem engrossed in what Lee’s saying on the radio, even though it’s the end of the programme and Lee’s parting words have that regurgitated ring to them and Harry is sure Ron has heard them several times before. 

 

Hermione is looking between the two of them, with her front teeth buried in her lower lip so as not to laugh. 

 

”Good, eh?” Ron says in an overly happy voice as he turns the radio off again. 

 

”Brilliant”, Harry agrees quickly. 

 

Hermione seems to struggle with her own face for another few seconds, but nods in agreement. 

 

”It’s very brave of them”, she says finally. ”If they were found…”

 

”Well, they keep on the move, don’t they?” Ron says. ”Like us.”

 

”But did you hear what George — er — Fred? Yeah, Fred. What he said”, Harry says, his excitement returning as the blush fades. ” _He’s abroad!_ He’s still looking for the wand, _I knew it!_ ”

 

”Harry —”

 

”Oh, come on, Hermione! Why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—”

 

”HARRY, _NO_ —!”

 

”—demort’s after the Elder Wand!”

 

” _The name’s Taboo!_ ” Ron bellows and leaps to his feet, looking around wildly as a familiar-sounding _crack_ can be heard just outside the tent. ”I told you, Harry, I told you — quickly — before they find —!”

 

Ron cuts himself off short and stares in horror at the table — Harry follows his line of sight and sees the Sneakoscope light up and start to spin; voices can be heard outside the tent, coming nearer and nearer, rough and excited voices — Ron gets the Deluminator out of his pocket and clicks it; all the lights in the tent go out. 

 

”Come out of there with your hands up!” a rasping voice calls out through the darkness. ”We know you’re in there! You’ve got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don’t care who we curse!”

 

Harry’s heart has lodged itself in his throat. He looks around at Ron and Hermione, mere outlines in the darkness of the tent, and realises that Hermione has got her wand out — pointing at Harry’s face — he frowns and opens his mouth to ask her what she’s playing at, but before he’s got the words out there’s a loud _bang_ and Harry’s face explodes in pain, he doubles over, dropping helplessly to his knees, hands pressed to his aching face that is now swelling rapidly…

 

”Get up, vermin!” the rasping voice hisses close to his ear suddenly. 

 

Unfamiliar hands are on him, pulling him roughly to his feet and digging through his pockets, grabbing the blackthorn wand. Harry keeps clutching at his face, the pain nearly excruiating, and it’s still swelling… dragging his fingertips gingerly over the swollen flesh he tries to map out his features, but it’s all one big lump of sore flesh… he can only imagine what he must look like… His eyes are so swollen he can barely see; all he can make out through the watering slits are the blurry shapes of four or five people wrestling Ron and Hermoine out of the tent. 

 

”Get — off — her!” Ron growls as he struggles against his captors. 

 

There’s an unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh and Ron grunts in pain. 

 

”No! Leave him alone!” Hermione screams. 

 

”Your boyfriend’s going to get much worse if he’s on my list”, the rasping voice says, and with a pang of horror Harry knows where he’s heard it before… _Greyback…_ ”Delicious girl… what a treat… I do enjoy the softness of the skin…”

 

” _N-No_ —!” Harry gasps. 

 

”Shut up, you!” someone snarls and then he’s shoved to the ground outside the tent. 

 

”Now let’s see who we’ve got here”, Greyback says from overhead and flips Harry over to his back with a not-so-gentle prod with his foot, and then a lit wand is shining in Harry’s face. ”O-ho! I’ll be needing Butterbeer to wash this one down… What happened to you, ugly?”

 

Harry doesn’t reply, his mind whirring… _They can’t tell it’s me… That’s why Hermione —_

 

”I _said_ ”, Greyback growls, kicking him hard in the stomach. ”What happened to you?”

 

Harry curls up in pain, then gasps for breath, ”S-Stung —!”

 

”Yeah, looks like it”, another voice remarks. 

 

”What’s your name?” Greyback demands. 

 

”D-Dudley”, Harry lies quickly. ”V-Vernon Dudley…”

 

”Check the list, Scabior”, Greyback barks, before moving on to look down at Ron instead. ”And what about you, Ginger?”

 

”Stan Shunpike”, Ron says immediately. 

 

”Like Hell you are”, the man called Scabior says. ”We know Stan Shunpike, he’s put a bit of work our way!”

 

There’s another thud and when Ron speaks again, Harry can tell his mouth is filled with blood, ”I’b Bardy… Bardy Weasley.”

 

”A Weasley, eh?” Greyback rasps. ”So you’re related to blood traitors then, even if you’re not a Mudblood… and lastly, your pretty little friend…”

 

”Easy, Greyback”, Scabior says while the others jeer. 

 

”Oh, I’m not going to bite just yet. We’ll see if she’s a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny. Who are you, girly?”

 

”Penelope Clearwater”, Hermione says, sounding terrified but convincing. 

 

”And what’s your Blood Status?”

 

”H-Half-blood…”

 

”Easy enough to check… But the whole lot of them look like they’re Hogwarts age, don’t they?”

 

”We’b lebt”, Ron says. 

 

”Left school, have you, Ginger?” Scabior taunts. ”And what, you decided to go on a little camping trip, did you? And for a laugh you thought you’d use the Dark Lord’s name, as well?”

 

”Nod a laugh”, Ron mutters. ”Aggiden.”

 

” _Accident?_ ” 

 

There are more jeering laughter at this. 

 

”Well, we’ll see… Bind them up with the other two prisoners!”

 

Someone yanks Harry up by the hair, and he almost relishes the sting as it distracts him from the pain in his face. He’s dragged a short way, then pushed down into a sitting position and tied up back-to-back with someone. 

 

When the last man tying them up has walked away, he whispers to the others, ”Anyone still got a wand?”

 

”No”, Ron and Hermione both whisper on either side of him. 

 

”This is all my fault”, he groans. ”I said the name, I’m so sorry —!”

 

”Harry?” a new, but familiar voice says suddenly from behind Harry. 

 

” _Dean_?”

 

”It _is_ you! Oh man, if they find out who they’ve got —! They’re Snatchers, they’re only looking for truants to sell for gold —”

 

”Hey! Look at this, Greyback!” 

 

A dark figure comes bustling out of the tent swinging the Sword of Gryffindor in front of him. He hands it to the werewolf who examines it with an appreciative hum. 

 

”Hang on a minute!” another voice says. ”Greyback! Look at this, in the _Prophet_!”

 

Harry’s scar, now stretched tight across his disfigured forehead, burns intensely suddenly. More clearly than he can make out anything around him, he sees towering buildings and a jet black fortress with a decidedly grim air to it; Voldemort’s thoughts are razor-sharp in Harry’s head again; he’s gliding towards the gigantic building with a sense of calm purpose, almost euphoric… _So close… So close…_

 

Harry forces his mind shut to Voldemort’s thoughts again, with huge effort. A sheen of cold sweat breaks out over his skin, cooling his still aching face momentarily. 

 

” _Hermione Granger_ ”, Scabior is reciting. ” _The Mudblood who is known to be travelling with Harry Potter…_ ”

 

A stillness settles over the scene. Harry is sure the others must be able to hear his heart beating in his chest. 

 

”You know what, little girly”, Greyback says right next to him and he flinches. ”This picture looks a hell of a lot like you…”

 

”It isn’t!” Hermione squeaks.

 

” _Known to be travelling with Harry Potter_ ”, Scabior says again, his voice oddly breathless now. 

 

”Well, this changes things, doesn’t it…” Greyback whispers and Harry can feel him moving closer to him, until he’s so close that his hot breath hits Harry in the face. ”What’s that on your forehead then, Vernon?”

 

”Don’t touch it!” Harry gasps as a thick finger is pressed roughly against his burning scar.

 

Voldemort’s thoughts are pressing down on him harder and harder, but he forces himself to _focus_ , to not let himself delve into his mind, but to stay aware of the present… 

 

Greyback chuckles quietly, ”I thought you wore glasses, Potter?”

 

”We found glasses!” Someone exclaims, just as breathlessly. ”In the tent! We did find glasses, Greyback!”

 

After a couple of seconds, Harry’s glasses are thrust onto his face roughly and he barely refrains from whimpering. 

 

”It is!” Greyback rasps excitedly. ”We’ve caught Potter!”

 

Harry is still fighting to stay present in his own splitting head, as fragmented visions are breaking through — 

 

_…he’s gliding around the high walls of the black fortress…_

 

No, he’s Harry, he’s tied up and wandless and in grave danger —

 

_…looking up, up to the topmost window, the highest tower…_

 

He is Harry, and his fate is being discussed in low voices —

 

_…time to fly…_

 

”— to the Ministry?”

 

”To Hell with the Ministry!” Greyback growls. ”They’ll take the credit, and we won’t get a look in. I say we take him straight to You-Know-Who…”

 

”Will you summon him? Here?” Scabior says, sounding equal measures awed and terrified by the idea.

 

”No, I haven’t got — they say he’s using the Malfoy’s place as a base. We’ll take the boy there.”

 

Harry’s scar sears again —

 

_… he is rising into the night, flying straight up to the window at the very top of the tower; the window is merely a slit in the black rock, not big enough for a man to enter; a skeletal figure can be seen through it, curled up beneath a blanket — dead or sleeping?_

 

”—What about the rest of them? What do we do with them?”

 

”Might as well take the lot. We’ve got two Mudbloods, that’s another ten Galleons. And give me the sword, as well. If those are rubies, that’s another small fortune right there… I’ll take Potter!”

 

Suddenly Harry’s hair is fisted in Greyback’s hand and Harry is pulled roughly to his feet; then they’re submerged in complete darkness and Harry gasps for breath, but there is no air, just darkness and pain… And his scar sears more painfully still —

 

_…he forces himself thorugh the slit of a window like a snake and lands lightly like vapour inside the cell-like room; the emaciated figure under the blanket stirs and rolls towards him, eyes opening in the skull of a face and a hint of emotion flashes in them for a second as the frail man struggles to sit up, his great sunken eyes fixed upon him; and then he smiles…_

 

_’So you’ve come at last. I thought you would… one day. But your journey has been in vain. You see, I never had it…’_

 

_’You lie!’ he hisses._

 

Voldemort’s anger throbs through Harry’s veins and his scar threatens to burst from the pain of it. He wrenches his mind back to his own body as he feels his feet slam against solid ground once more. 

 

Peering out of his swollen eyes, Harry realises they’ve Apparated to a huge house — _mansion, more like,_ he thinks. _Figures Malfoy would live in a bloody castle_ — and he squints at the closed gates as Scabior walks up and shakes them; then jumping back in fright as the iron comes to life and twists itself into a frightening face, which speaks in a clanging voice: _”State your purpose!”_

 

”We’ve got Potter!” Greyback roars. ”We’ve captured Harry Potter!”

 

The gates swing open immediately. Greyback grabs him by the scruff of the neck and pulls him roughly alongside him as he strides up to the main doors of Malfoy Manor. Light spills out over them all as the doors creak open. 

 

”What is this?” a woman’s voice says coldly. 

 

”We’re here to see He Who Must Not Be Named”, Greyback rasps triumphantly. 

 

”And who are you?” the woman says, just as coolly. 

 

” _You know me_!” Greyback growls and Harry can hear the resentment in his voice. ”Fenrir Greyback! We’ve caught Harry Potter! _See?_ ”

 

Harry is suddenly thrust fully into the light and cringes slightly. There is a moment of silence. 

 

”I know he’s all swollen, ma’am”, Scabior pipes up. ”But it really is him! If you look a little closer, you’ll see the scar! And you see this girl here? This is the Mudblood who’s been travelling with him, and we’ve got his wand as well — Here, ma’am —!”

 

Harry lifts his head a little and peers up at the face of Narcissa Malfoy whom he can just make out through the tears in his eyes. She seems to be leaning in for a closer look at his face, but jerks back when Scabior waves the blackthorn wand in her direction. 

 

”Bring them in”, she says curtly. ”My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know.”

 

Harry stumbles along as Greyback drags him across the threshold and follows Narcissa into a huge sitting room. 

 

”What is this?” the familiar drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy reaches Harry, who is really starting to panic by now; _how are we going to get out of this?_

 

”They say they’ve got Potter”, Narcissa says in an almost bored tone. ”Draco, come here.”

 

Another pale-blonde, skinny figure unfolds itself from one of the armchairs by the fireplace and walks a little closer to them. Harry doesn’t dare look Draco in the face, scared that if their eyes were to meet the game would be up immediately, but Draco seems reluctant to get too close to him and Greyback and when Harry glances up at him quickly, he can see that the other boy is avoiding Harry’s eyes too. 

 

”Well, boy?” Greyback rasps impatiently and the blonde boy flinches away from him. 

 

”Well, Draco?” Lucius says, sounding almost excited. ”Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

 

”I — I don’t know”, the boy mutters. ”I can’t — I can’t be sure…”

 

”But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!” his father insists. ”Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv—”

 

”Now, we won’t forget who _actually_ caught him, I hope, Mr Malfoy?” Greyback growls. 

 

”Of course not, of course not!” Lucius says impatiently, then approaches Harry himself, peering closely at his forehead. ”What did you do to him anyway? How did he get into this state?”

 

”That wasn’t us.”

 

”Looks like a Stinging Hex…” Lucius mutters, then continues in an undertone almost as if he’s talking to himself. ”There’s something there, it _could_ be the scar, stretched tight… Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?”

 

Draco sidles up to his father reluctantly and peers at Harry’s forehead, then meets Harry’s eyes for a second before looking away completely again. 

 

”I don’t know”, he says again and walks back to the fireplace where his mother is standing. 

 

Lucius huffs a little in exasperation and seems to take a deep breath. 

 

”We must be certain, Lucius”, Narcissa says, with a delicate hand resting gently on her son’s shoulder. ”If we summon the Dark Lord and that isn’t Potter…”

 

”Yes, yes”, Lucius agrees. ”Of course.”

 

”They say this is his”, she continues and holds up the blackthorn in the light from the chandelier. ”It doesn’t match Ollivander’s description of the boy’s wand… If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing… remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?”

 

”Yes”, Lucius says again and starts to turn away from Harry. 

 

”What about the Mudblood, then?” Greyback growls. 

 

Draco mutters something that sounds like _’dunno’_ but is clearly looking away from the lot of them and staring instead into the fire. 

 

”Wait”, Narcissa says quietly. ”Yes — _yes_ , she was in Madam Malkin’s with Potter! We also saw her picture in the _Prophet_ , remember Lucius?” 

 

” _Yes_!” Lucius exclaims immediately, regaining his excited tone. ”Yes, it _is_ Miss Granger, isn’t it? Draco, _isn’t it?_ ”

 

”Draco”, Narcissa says sharply. 

 

”I — maybe… yeah…” Draco mutters, glancing at his mother’s hands rather than Hermione before glaring at his own feet.

 

”But then, that’s the Weasley boy, surely!” Lucius shouts triumphantly and all but skips over to where Ron is standing half-stooped in the grip of a rather short Snatcher. ”It’s them, it _is_ them, _Potter’s friends_ — Draco, look at him, isn’t it Arthur Weasley’s son, what’s his name —?”

 

”Yeah”, Draco says with his back turned completely to them now. ”It could be.”

 

The door to the dining room slides open with the tiniest groan and the sudden hush in the sitting room is filled with the echoing clickety-click of a woman’s high heels. 

 

”What is this? What’s happened, Cissy?” the all-too-familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange wheezes out and Harry’s stomach drops. ”Oh… But that is the Mudblood girl, isn’t it? That’s Granger?”

 

”Yes, yes, it’s Granger!” Lucius crows. ”And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!”

 

” _Potter?_ ” Bellatrix shrieks, rounding on Harry, her heavy-lidded eyes flashing as she sweaps them up and down his body appraisingly. ”Are you sure?”

 

”Yes”, Lucius says again, his enthusiasm faltering only slightly. ”Yes, we believe so…”

 

”Well, then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!” Bellatrix exclaims and pulls up the sleeve on her left arm, exposing the Dark Mark —

 

”I was about to call him!” Lucius says swiftly and grabs ahold of Bellatrix’s right wrist, preventing her from touching her Mark. ” _I_ shall summon him, Bella! Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority —!”

 

”Your authority!” Bellatrix sneers, trying to twist her arm out of his grip. ”You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! _How dare you?_ Take your hands off me!”

 

”This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy —!”

 

”Begging your pardon, Mr Malfoy”, Greyback interjects darkly. ”But it is us that’s caught Potter, and it is us that will be claiming the gold —”

 

”Gold”, Bellatrix laughs, now full-on wrestling with her brother-in-law while groping for her wand with her free hand. ”You can take your gold, filthy scavenger! What do I want with gold? I seek only the honour of his — of — ohh…” she cuts herself off with a gasp and immediately stops struggling against Lucius, her dark eyes fixed on something Harry can’t see.

 

Lucius flicks his great mane of white-blonde hair over his shoulder with a jubilant grin and rips up his own sleeve. 

 

”STOP!” Bellatrix shrieks. ”Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord is summoned here now!”

 

Lucius freezes, his index finger hovering a mere inch away from his own Dark Mark.

 

” _What is that_?” Bellatrix demands, pointing. 

 

”Sword”, Scabior grunts. 

 

”Give it to me”, she says, voice trembling with barely contained rage. 

 

”Begging your pardon Missus, but I reckon I found it, so it’s mine —”

 

There is a deafening _bang_ and a flash of red light as Bellatrix sends the first Stunning spell, followed by an angry roar from Greyback. 

 

” _Stupefy! Stupefy!_ ” Bellatrix screams, stunning the Snatchers one after the other, leaving only Greyback conscious. ”Where… did… you… find… this… sword?” 

 

Greyback growls low in his throat, baring his pointy teeth, body tense and ready to pounce, but he hesitates, clearly frightened of the accomplished and unscrupulous witch. 

 

”Bella, what is it?” Narcissa says worriedly.

 

”Where did you find this sword?” Bellatrix bellows, completely ignoring her sister. ”Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!”

 

”It was in their tent!” Greyback growls. 

 

”Bella, what —?” Narcissa says in a louder voice. 

 

”Draco!” Bellatrix barks, again ignoring her sister. ”Move this scum outside — if you don’t have the guts to finish them off, then just leave them in the courtyard for me —”

 

”Don’t you dare speak to Draco like —” Narcissa says furiously, but Bellatrix screams, ” _Be quiet!_ The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!”

 

Lucius moves swiftly away from the enraged woman, eyeing her warily as he joins his wife and son over by the fireplace, automatically curling his hand over the back of Narcissa’s slender neck. 

 

”If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed, the Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself”, Bellatrix continues in a slightly calmer voice, while studying the hilt of the Sword closely, her words trigger something in Harry, a memory:

 

 _No! Potter belongs to the Dark Lord, we are to leave him! Just go!_ Go!

 

Black, billowing robes in the darkness; black curtains of hair framing the pale face, deep shadows growing in the glow from the fire, black eyes flashing —

 

 _Snape,_ Harry thinks faintly. _Snape can save us, he must be in and out of here all the time, he can show up at any moment —_

 

 _And then what?_ a bitter voice pipes up from the back of Harry’s mind. _What can he possibly do to help, without blowing his cover?_

 

”But if he finds out… I must — I must know —” Bellatrix looks up swiftly and pins her sister with a fierce look, ”The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!”

 

”This is my house, Bella, you don’t give orders in my —!”

 

Lucius ducks his head and seems to whisper something in her ear, but is drowned by another shriek from Bellatrix who looks positively livid, and red sparks sputter from the tip of her wand, burning tiny holes in the carpet, ”Just do it! You have no idea of the danger we’re in!”

 

”Greyback”, Lucius says after a tense moment of silence. ”Will you escort the prisoners to the cellar.”

 

”Wait”, Bellatrix says swiftly. ”All except… except for the Mudblood.”

 

”No!” Ron shouts. ”You can have me, keep me!”

 

Bellatrix swings her hand back and strikes him hard across the face, the sound of flesh connecting with flesh echoeing in the big room. 

 

”If she dies under questioning, I’ll take you next”, Bellatrix says. ”Blood-traitor is next to Mudblood in my book…”

 

Greyback all but pushes them down a steep flight of stairs and then shoves them unceremoniously into a dark room and slams the door shut. A guttural, drawn-out scream can soon be heard from directly above them. 

 

”Hermione!” Ron bellows. ” _Hermione!_ ”

 

”Be quiet!” Harry gasps. ”Shut up, Ron, we need to work out a way —”

 

”HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”

 

”We need a plan, Ron, _stop yelling_ —!”

 

”Harry?” a whisper comes out of the darkness, startling him and he whirls around, staring intently into the darkness, sensing a shadow moving closer to them. ”Ron? Is that you?”

 

” _Luna_?”

 

”Yes, it’s me! Oh, no, I so hoped that you wouldn’t be caught!”

 

Hermione screams again from overhead, and now they can hear Bellatrix matching her scream for scream, a demanding tone to her voice, but Harry can’t make out the words and when Ron starts shouting Hermione’s name again it’s definitely impossible to hear what she’s asking. 

 

”Luna, can you help untie our hands, d’you think —?” Harry asks. 

 

”Oh, yes, we have a nail for breaking through things… Mr Ollivander? Do you have the nail —? Thank you!”

 

Harry can feel Luna’s hands fumble around his tied-up wrists, a piece of rusty metal scratching against his skin after a while. 

 

”Oh, sorry”, she whispers when the nail slips on the rope and jabs him particularly hard. ”I can’t see what I’m doing…”

 

Ron stops yelling and tells her to get the Deluminator out of his pocket. Within seconds the room is flooded with light. Luna’s eyes appear even bigger and dreamier than ever, as if she hasn’t seen daylight in weeks… Harry’s stomach churns unpleasantly, _that’s because she hasn’t…_

 

He looks around the rest of the room, seeing the old wandmaker, Mr Ollivander, curled up in a corner and peering up at them all. Next to Ron, Dean and Griphook the goblin are tied together, Griphook slumped forward and barely conscious, Dean trying to support his weight with his arm bent at an odd angle. 

 

”Oh, that’s much better, Ron, thanks”, Luna says pleasantly and continues hacking away at the rope around Harry’s wrists with the nail. ”Hello, Dean!”

 

”You are a lying, filthy Mudblood!” Bellatrix voice can be heard from overhead. ”You have been in my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth! _Tell the truth!_ ”

 

Another terrible scream —

 

”HERMIONE!” Ron shouts, voice raw and cracking. 

 

”What else did you take?” Bellatrix bellows. ”What else have you got? Tell me the truth, or I swear I will gut you with this knife and let Greyback snack on whatever falls out —!”

 

Ron, having run around the room several times looking for a hidden way out, now starts hoping in jerky half-circles and for a moment Harry thinks he’s gone insane, but then he realises that he’s trying to Disapparate without a wand. 

 

”What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME!” Bellatrix shrieks. ”CRUCIO!”

 

Harry’s heart jumps into his throat and he starts running up and down the length of the room as well, feeling along the wall, searching in panic for a trapdoor or anything that might help them escape the room and rescue Hermoine —

 

”There’s no way out”, Luna says unhelpfully. ”I tried when I first got here, and Mr Ollivander has been here for ages, he’s tried everything…”

 

Harry pats himself down and finding the pouch around his neck, he starts groping inside it: pulling out Dumbledore’s Snitch and shaking it, hoping for something, anything, but the Snitch remains shut… he waves the broken halves of the phoenix wand uselessly, nothing happens… suddenly the mirror shard clatters to the floor and glancing down at it, Harry’s heart leaps in his chest, because he’s sure he just saw flash of blue — a glimpse of Dumbledore’s eye —

 

”Help us!” he yells in desperation. ”We’re in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, _please, help us!_ ”

 

”Please”, Hermione cries overhead. ”We’ve never been inside your vault! It isn’t the real sword, it’s a copy, just a copy!”

 

”A copy!” Bellatrix screeches. ”A likely story!”

 

”But we can find out easily”, Lucius voice can be heard. ”Draco, fetch that goblin from the cellar! He can tell us if the sword is a fake or not!”

 

Harry quickly stoops down and grabs Griphook gently by his tiny shoulders and shakes him urgently, ”Griphook! You must tell them the sword is a fake, they mustn’t know it’s the real one, _please_ —”

 

Hurried steps can be heard coming down the stone steps and approaching the door. Harry jumps back from the goblin, just as Ron clicks the Deluminator again, leaving the room in total darkness once more. 

 

”Stand b-back —!” Draco’s frightened voice can be heard from the other side of the door. ”Line up against the back wall, don’t try anything, or I’ll — I’ll k- kill you!”

 

The door creaks open and the faint light from Draco’s wand seems to float towards them, his ghostly pale face floating just behind it, mouth set in a determined line even as his eyes flicker wildly around the room. He grabs the goblin by the arm and drags him along the floor as he backs out of the room again. 

 

The door slams shut again, at the exact same time as a _crack_ can be heard inside the room. Ron clicks the Deluminator and releases the three balls of light again, revealing Dobby the house-elf standing in the middle of the floor. His enormous tennis-ball-shaped eyes peer up at Harry, his tiny body trembling  all over. 

 

”Harry Potter”, he squeaks. ”Dobby has come to rescue you.”

 

”You can Disapparate out of this cellar? And you can take humans with you?”

 

Dobby nods, his great big ears flapping with the movement. 

 

”Right”, Harry says hurriedly as Hermoine can be heard sobbing above them. ”Dobby, I want you to take Luna, Dean and Mr Ollivander and take them to — take them to —”

 

”Bill and Fleur’s”, Ron says. ”Shell Cottage, on the outskirts of Tinworth!”

 

”Yes”, Harry says. ”And then come back for us. Can you do that, Dobby?”

 

”Of course, Harry Potter”, Dobby whispers, running over to Mr Ollivander immediately and seizing the man’s hand before holding out his other hand towards Dean and Luna. 

 

”Harry, we can’t leave you —” Dean starts to protest. 

 

”Go, both of you!” Harry demands. ”We’ll see you at Shell Cottage in a bit!”

 

Harry’s scar sears in pain again and suddenly he isn’t looking down on Dobby and Mr Ollivander, but at another man, just as old and thin and frail-looking as Mr Ollivander is now, but unlike Ollivander this man is laughing bitterly. 

 

_”Kill me then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek… there is so much you don’t understand…”_

 

Harry feels Voldemort’s fury, but when Hermoine screams again he forces his mind shut and his eyes open.

 

” _Go!_ ” he beseeches Luna and Dean, who both nod and reaches for Dobby’s out-stretched hand, and with another _crack_ all four of them vanish. 

 

”What was that?” Lucius shouts over their heads. ”Did you hear that? That noise? It sounded like it came from the cellar —!”

 

Harry and Ron stare at each other. 

 

”Draco —”

 

”No”, Narcissa says swiftly. ”Call Wormtail, make him go and check!”

 

”We’re going to have to tackle him”, Harr whispers to Ron who nods in understanding; they have no choice, as soon as anyone enters the room now and realises it’s missing three of its’ prisoners, they’re done for. ”Leave the lights on”, Harry adds. 

 

They back up against the wall on either side of the door, listening for approaching footsteps and holding their breaths. 

 

”Stand back!” the familiar squeak of Peter Pettigrew can be heard through the door. ”Stand away from the door, I am coming in!”

 

The door flies open and for a moment Wormtail stands frozen in shock on the threshold, staring into a seemingly empty room, mysteriously ablaze with light from three miniature suns floating in mid-air. 

 

Ron and Harry then launch themselves on the small man, Ron seizing his arm and twisting it painfully behind his back while Harry slaps his hand over his mouth, muffling his startled scream. The silvery hand shoots up and grasps Harry’s throat and squeezes —

 

”What is it?” Lucius calls from the top of the stairs. 

 

”Nothing!” Ron calls back in a rather passable imitation of Wormtail’s whiny, wheezy voice. ”All clear!”

 

Harry scrabbles with his free hand, clawing at Wormtail’s silver one as it tightens on his throat, ”You going to kill me?” he gasps quietly. ”After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!”

 

Suddenly the silver fingers slacken, surprising Harry who really hadn’t expected to get a reaction, and looking into the short, plump man’s watery eyes, Harry realises that he’d been just as surprised by his own reaction as Harry had. The eyes widen further, looking properly terrified, but they’re not fixed on Harry’s own eyes anymore but rather staring in horror at the silver hand… Harry frowns in confusion… 

 

The silver hand snaps into place upon Wormtail’s own throat and starts squeezing again. 

 

”No —” Harry gasps, trying to prise the fingers off.

 

Ron releases Wormtail’s arm and together he and Harry try to pull the crushing metal fingers from around the man’s throat, but it’s no use: Pettigrew’s eyes are popping, his face turning rapidly blue… He drops to his knees, then falls over and crumbles in a lifeless heap at their feet… 

 

Harry and Ron exchange a look, but with Hermoine’s sobs growing louder and louder there really is no time to waste… they bolt out of the room and up the steep stairs, then cautiously creep along the shadowy passageway leading to the sitting room, sidling silently up to the door which stands ajar. 

 

Bellatrix has abandoned Hermione in a heap on the floor and is towering over Griphook and the sword, waiting for the his verdict. Hermione is sobbing, as Greyback hovers nearby, leering at her and licking his lips. 

 

”Well”, Bellatrix demands. ”Is it the true sword?”

 

”No”, Griphook says weakly, but clearly. ”It is a fake.”

 

Relief breaks out in the woman’s face, the ugly scowl clearing like a blanket of clouds after a storm and with a lazy flick of her wand she makes another deep gash appear on the goblin’s face, before she kicks him aside and rounds on the others with a triumphant grin, ”Now we can summon the Dark Lord!”

 

Harry’s scar bursts open with pain and the sight of Bellatrix pressing her finger against the hideous Dark Mark branded into her pale skin dissolves and instead he is once again staring down at the old man with the toothless grin… _and he is enraged at the summons — he has warned them, he has told them to summon him for nothing less than Potter! If they are mistaken…_

_”Kill me then!” the old man demands. ”You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours —”_

_Voldemort’s fury soars; a burst of green lights floods the small cell and the frail old body is lifted from the hard bed and arches into the air, before falling back down, lifeless…_

_He turns to the window, his wratch barely contained… Oh, how they will suffer, if they have summoned him in vain, if they are mistaken, his retribution will be swift and severe, make no mistake…_

 

”I think we can dispose of the Mudblood”, Bellatrix voice breaks through the jumble of images and erratic emotions coursing through Harry and he tries to shut his mind again, tries to focus… 

 

”Greyback, you may take her —” Bellatrix says.

 

”NOOOOO —!” Ron’s guttural scream sounds as he bursts into the sitting room; Bellatrix spins around in shock and raises her wand, but Ron has already got Wormtail’s wand trained on her and he bellows ” _Expelliarmus!_ ”

 

Harry, who runs into the room tight on Ron’s heel, catches Bellatrix’s wand as it flies out of her hand and swings around to face the rest of the Malfoy’s and Greyback who has jumped to his feet, ” _Stupify!_ ”

 

Lucius Malfoy collapses on the heath; Harry throws himself onto the floor, barely dodging the hexes from Narcissa’s and Draco’s wands, sending another Stunning spell at Greyback before he has a chance to pounce on Hermoine, Harry rolls around and scrambles to his feet, taking aim at Narcissa —

 

”STOP OR SHE DIES —!”

 

Harry wheels around in panic; Bellatrix has scooped up Hermione’s unconscious form and is holding a small silver knife pressed against her throat, ”Drop your wands… Drop them, or we’ll see just how dirty her blood is…”

 

Harry glances sideways at Ron; he is standing stock still, staring in horror at the knife blade pressing into the skin of Hermione’s neck, Wormtail’s wand still clutched tightly in his hand… 

 

” _Drop them!_ ” Bellatrix screeches, and a thin line of blood beads appear on Hermoine’s neck, ”All right!” Harry shouts, tossing Bellatrix’s wand onto the floor. 

 

Another clatter tells him Ron has done the same with Wormtail’s wand. 

 

Bellatrix sneers, ”Very good… Draco, pick them up… The Dark Lord is on his way, Harry Potter, your death approaches!”

 

Harry knows it to be true; his scar is pulsing with pain, and at the back of his mind he is aware of an endless stretch of sea _over which he is flying, closer and closer, soon he’ll be close enough to Apparate…_

 

”Now”, Bellatrix says softly, as Draco hurries back to his mother’s side with both Bellatrix’s and Wormtail’s wands clutched tightly in his hand. ”Cissy, I think we ought to tie these two up again, while Greyback takes care of the girl…”

 

Draco looks over at his mother with terrified look on his face that seems to annoy her slightly, since she frowns back coldly, and he swallows convulsively a couple of times, his face paling beyond white and turning an ashen grey as he reluctantly peers over at Greyback who is now baring his pointed teeth again, his yellow eyes trained on Hermione… Harry’s blood runs cold, his mind is a blank, the only thing he can think is how hard his heart hammers in his chest and how close Voldemort is —

 

A squeaking noise can suddenly be heard from high above them, and Harry tilts his head back and looks up; the huge chandelier seems to be trembling, and then it gives a loud creak and begins to fall, and Bellatrix who is standing right underneath it has to dive to the side in order to avoid being crushed, releasing Hermione who crumbles on top of Griphook and the Sword of Gryffindor… The chandelier hits the stone floor and shards of crystal fly in all directions; Draco doubles over, his wand-free hand going up to cover one half of his face where several gashes can be seen, blood seeping through his fingers… 

 

Ron runs over to Hermione and hoists her body up in a half-embrace, and gripping the Sword of Gryffindor in his free hand —

 

Harry leaps over the armchair standing between him and the Malfoy’s and knocks Draco completely to the floor, wrestling the wands from him and pointing all three at Greyback he shouts ” _Stupify!_ ”and the werewolf is knocked off his feet by the triple spell and smashes against the far wall with a horrible crunching sound of bones breaking — 

 

Narcissa has got her arms around Draco and is dragging him out of the way of further harm while yelling for her husband, although the man is still out cold on the floor… Bellatrix fumbles for the knife on the floor, her eyes mad with fury — 

 

”Dobby!” Narcissa screams suddenly, staring in outrage towards the other end of the room, ” _You_! You made the chandelier fall —!”

 

”You must not hurt Harry Potter!” the house-elf squeaks and points a trembling finger at his former mistress. 

 

”Kill him, Cissy!” Bellatrix bellows, but there’s another loud _crack_ and Narcissa’s wand goes flying across the room. ”You dirty little monkey! How dare you take a witch’s wand, how dare you defy your masters!”

 

”Dobby has no masters!” the elf squeals furiously, even as his tiny body is shaking in fright and his eyes shine with determination and pride. ” _Dobby is a free elf_ — and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”

 

Harry is aware that they have only seconds until Voldemort is on the scene and tosses one of the wands to Ron, then gripping the unconscious goblin in one hand and seizing Dobby’s hand with the other, he spins on the spot, thinking desperately, _Bill and Fleur’s place… Shell cottage…_

 

Before he feels the familiar pull behind his navel and darkness swallows them, Harry catches one last view of the Malfoy sitting room; the frozen figures of Narcissa and Draco, the streak of red that is Ron’s hair before he and Hermione also Disapparated, and something silvery flying out of Bellatrix’s hand and soaring towards them —

 

The darkness squeezes the air out of him, his scar is searing in pain, a layer of cold sweat chills his skin; the goblin weighs down on him and Dobby’s hand twitches in his —

 

Solid ground springs up to meet them and Harry staggers under the weight of both Griphook and Dobby, who seems to fainted as well… Harry’s knees buckle and he drops to the ground, gently laying Griphook down in the grass so that he can grab Dobby with both hands — and that’s when he sees it… 

 

”No! _Dobby —_!” Harry gasps in horror, hugging the small house-elf’s body closer, trying to fit his hand around Bellatrix’s dagger that is buried to the hilt in Dobby’s abdomen, desperately trying to stop the blood flow, vaguely aware of a tiny hand clutching his elbow weakly… _This isn’t happening… This isn’t happening…_ ”Dobby, hang in there, okay? You’re going to be fine! Hermione has dittany in her — in her bag — _Hermione_!”

 

The lids over Dobby’s big tennis-ball eyes flutter and his weak grip on Harry’s arm loosens more and more, until finally his tiny hand falls limply to his side. 

 

”HERMIONE! RON! ANYONE, HELP!”

 

Dobby’s body gives a shudder, his shining eyes roll back slightly in his head but then, with seemingly great effort, the elf fixes them upon Harry’s again. 

 

”No, Dobby, don’t die… _please, don’t die…_ ”

 

”Harry… Potter…”

 

With one last shudder, the tiny body finally goes limp in Harry’s arms and he stares in mute horror at the big glossy orbs, reflecting the stars overhead but definitely not seeing them anymore; Harry feels himself start to shake, but it’s not until Dobby’s slack face blurs in front of him that he realises he’s crying violently; a half-strangled sob tears itself out of his throat and seems to echo in the night.

 

He’s vaguely aware of people running up to them, then stopping at a polite distance as Harry hugs Dobby’s lifeless body closer and cries. 

 

Someone approaches cautiously and carefully maneouvres the wounded Griphook away from him. Someone else starts talking about burials and Harry nods, but refuses to let go of Dobby’s body… _not yet… not yet…_ he thinks, then: _no more… no more…_

 

His grief swells and swells, then distorts into rage, and for a moment he thinks he must have accidentally let Voldemort in again, _but no… no, he is Harry_ … Although Voldemort is still the _reason_ for his rage, it is his own rage, his own hatred, not a borrowed one this time; he hates Bellatrix, he hates Greyback, and most of all he hates Voldemort… _no more deaths,_ he thinks furiously. _No more. I won’t allow it._


	24. The return to Hogwarts

 

The sun skirts the edge of the horizon, it’s golden glow bouncing off the surface of the lake and splattering over the walls of Hogwarts; he is gliding over the grounds, alongside Severus Snape, the man carrying himself stiffly as usual, his posture betraying his impassive face… It amuses him… Not that it is surprising that even his most trusted follower is wary of him, frightened even, he would be a fool if he wasn’t — only one man has ever truly faced him without fear in his heart, only one, and he was conquered now, the white glint of his tomb visible next to the lake — no, what amuses him, is that Snape bothers to hide his fear, and how well he does it…

 

 _”I shall join you in the castle shortly”_ , he speaks in a high-pitched, cold voice. _”Leave me now.”_

 

Severus bows stiffly, his eyes flitting up to his face but not all the way up to his own eyes, then he turns and walks back up the path to the castle, his black robes billowing behind him; he smiles then… Harry feels a twinge in his chest… in _his_ chest, not Voldemort’s… Voldemort is still smiling grimly and waiting for Snape’s figure to disappear before continuing down the path… Because it wouldn’t do for anyone, not even Snape, to see where he means to go, after all… He casts a Disillusionment Charm on himself that hides him even from his own eyes; he holds up his hand in front of his face, but he can’t see it… 

 

He ambles around the edge of the lake, until he reaches the white marble tomb, reflected brilliantly in the dark water… No, Harry thinks as horror slams into him… But Voldemort is expectant, excited, euphoric almost… He lifts his yew wand: the tomb splits open from head to foot, revealing the shrouded figure inside and he leans over and trails his hand down the fold and caresses it aside, revealing the white-pale, sunken face of the old man… almost perfectly preserved still… he could be sleeping… 

 

 _No_ , Harry thinks — his grief butting heads with Voldemort’s euphoria —

 

Voldemort’s eyes trail down from the man’s face to his folded hands on top of his chest, one white and one blackened for some reason; and there it is… Had the old fool really thought that marble or death would protect it? Had he thought that Lord Voldemort would be scared to violate his tomb? 

 

With his spider-like hand he reaches down and plucks the Elder Wand from Dumbledore’s loose grip. 

 

” _Dumbledore_ had the Elder Wand?” Ron says incredulously when Harry fills him and Hermoine in later. ”Harry! How long have you known? Did Ollivander tell you back at Shell Cottage? ’Cause if he did, why have we been wasting time, instead of going to Hogwarts to get it —?”

 

”We haven’t wasted time”, Harry retorts. ”We’ve got another Horcrux! Hermoine was right, Dumbledore never wanted me to have the Elder Wand. He wanted me to find the Horcruxes, and that’s what we need to focus on…”

 

”Well, on the upside we got the Horcrux”, Ron says. ”On the down-side however…”

 

”No sword”, Harry agrees bitterly. 

 

”No sword”, Ron repeats. ”That double-crossing little scab…”

 

Harry pulls the cup from the pocket of his wet jacket that he’s just wrestled off him and places it in the grass in front of them. As the last rays of daylight hits it, it glints golden and beautiful. 

 

”Well, at least we can’t wear this one round our necks”, Ron says. ”Would look a bit weird, wouldn’t it…”

 

Hermoine tears her eyes from the cup and looks across the lake at the bank on the other side where the dragon is still drinking from the water, ”What do you think will happen to it?”

 

”You sound like Hagrid”, Ron says and rolls his eyes. ”It’s a dragon. It can take care of itself. It’s us you should be worrying about…”

 

”What do you mean?”

 

”Well, I don’t know how to break this to you, but _I think_ they might have noticed that we broke into Gringotts…”

 

All three of them start laughing, and like a switch has been flicked, once they’ve started it’s impossible to stop. Not until they’ve run out of breath and tears of mirth are seeping out of the corners of their eyes do they manage to compose themselves again, the sun having disappeared completely behind the line of the horizon. Harry lies back in the grass and stares up at the red sky as he pants for breath. 

 

Pain cleaves his head in two, like someone had split it open with a sword and his final chuckle turns into a gasp; He is standing in a dimly lit room, with a semi-circle of wizards facing him from behind ghost-like masks… on the floor, a quaking little figure is kneeling… a goblin… 

 

”What did you say to me?” Harry demands in Voldemort’s cold voice as fury burns inside him. ”Say it again. _Say it again!_ ”

 

”M- My L- Lord”, the goblin stammers, his black eyes wild with terror and flitting back and forth across the floor between them but not daring to meet his own. ”We t- tried to st- stop them… imp- posters, my Lord… broke — broke into the — into the Lestrange’s v- vault…”

 

” _Imposters?_ I thought Gringotts had ways of exposing imposters? Who were they?”

 

”It was — it was — P- Potter and t- two accomplices —”

 

” _And they took?_ ” he demands, voice rising shrilly as fear grips him. ”Tell me! _What did they take?_ ”

 

”A… a s- small golden c- cup m- my Lord…”

 

The scream of rage that erupts from him sounds foreign to his own ears, like that of a creature it tears out of his throat, denial and fear squeezes him from all sides, _it can’t be, it’s impossible, nobody has ever known, not even his most trusted Death Eaters, so how_ — how — _can Potter have discovered his secret?_

 

The Elder Wand slashes through the air and green light floods the room; the goblin rolls over, dead, while the Death Eaters fall back in terror and run for the door, Bellatrix and Lucius shoving others behind them in their race to safety behind the doors, as if there is such a thing, as if he can’t snuff all of them out whenever he so pleases… He fires off the Killing Curse again, and again, and again, at random Death Eaters without much thought, then starts pacing… 

 

His treasures, his safeguards, his anchors to immortality flash before his mind’s eye: _the diary was destroyed already and now the cup was stolen, what if,_ what if _the Potter boy knows of the others as well? Is it possible? Can he know? Can he have tracked down more? Was Dumbledore at the root of this?_ Even now, even after Voldemort has prevailed, even with the old man’s wand in his hand, even now the old fool is twarting his plans, from the other side… 

 

But surely he would know, if the Horcruxes had been found and destroyed, he would have noticed it? 

Some calm settles over him at last; it is also absurd to think that the boy could possibly know of the cave, or even the Gaunt shack… no-one ever knew him to be related to the Gaunts, he has hidden that connection, and the killings were never traced back to him, so the ring, surely, was safe…

 

He must be sure though, he must make sure… the images flash again through his boiling mind: _the lake, the shack, and Hogwarts…_ Yes, he must return to each of his hiding places, he must redouble the protection around each of his Horcruxes… He will visit the cave and the shack first, knowing that his hiding place in Hogwarts is quite safe, since he alone has penetrated the castle’s secret… Of course, it might be prudent to alert Snape of the possibility of Potter attempting to enter the castle, just as a pre-caution… to tell Snape why would be foolish, of course — it had been a grave mistake to trrust Bellatrix and Malfoy… 

 

Mind made up, he stops pacing around the fallen bodies of his servants and takes a calming, deep breath. He will go to the shack first, and he will take Nagini with him; they must not be seperated again… 

 

Harry’s eyes flies open and beyond the worried outlines of his friends he sees the sky above them, no longer red but pitch-black and peppered with stars; Ron and Hermione gaze down worriedly at him and he struggles to sit up, avoiding their alarmed eyes, ”He knows… He knows we got the cup and he’s going to check on the others… and the last one is hidden at Hogwarts… I knew it. _I knew it._ ”

 

Ron justs gapes at him, but Hermione frowns, shaking out her still damp, frizzy hair as she sits back on her haunches, ”But what did you see? How do you know?”

 

Harry thinks back on the vision, the fevered images tumbling over each other, the feeling of Voldemort’s raw voice as it tore through his throat, sending the Killing Curse across the room again and again, the fury mingled with fear in his chest; he tells Ron and Hermione everything, in fragmented portions as the memories come back to him, ”He thinks Hogwarts is the safest, because Se- Snape is there…” 

 

Harry swallows thickly past the lump in his throat… _if Severus had been present in that room, if he had been summoned to that meeting… he could be dead now… but no,_ Harry thinks firmly. _Voldemort wouldn’t kill Snape; he trusts him, he might even like him, as disturbing as that thought is…_

 

”And because he knows it’ll be really hard for us to get in without being seen”, he continues. ”So he’ll check there last, but he can still be there within hours —”

 

Harry scrambles to his feet, grabbing his wet jacket and casting a Warming spell on it, to dry it somewhat. 

 

”Did you see where in Hogwarts it is?” Ron says excitedly and gets up as well, scooping up the Cup as he does.

 

”No”, Harry admits and gets out his Invisibility Cloak. ”He was concentrating on warning Snape, he wasn’t thinking of exactly where it is —”

 

”Wait, _wait_ ”, Hermione says. ”We can’t just go! We haven’t got a plan, we need to —”

 

”There’s no time!” Harry says fiercely, he’s light-headed with exhaustion and hunger and had been looking forward to a few hours rest, but Voldemort can be at Hogwarts before morning, removing the Horcrux from its hiding place and if they don’t get to it before him, it’s going to be a hundred times harder to destroy it — _it’s bad enough that they have to get close enough to him to kill the snake!_

 

”But how are we going to get in to Hogwarts?” she insists, her eyes wide with fear now. 

 

”I don’t know yet”, Harry says impatiently. ”Let’s just go to Hogsmeade first of all, and then we’ll — we’ll think of some way — just — come on, get under the Cloak and let’s go!”

 

Harry pulls the Cloak down as far as it will go and huddles together with Ron and Hermoine on either side of him, and together they turn on the spot and Disapparate. 

 

No sooner have their feet touched solid ground and the familiar sight of Hogsmeade High Street come into view, when a high-pitched scream like that of Voldemort when he found out about the Cup; the door of The Three Broomsticks flies open and a dozen Death Eaters file out into the street with their wands held aloft, their dark eyes scanning their surroundings from behind their masks. 

 

Ron makes a movement towards his own wand, but Harry grips his wrist firmly and shakes his head. There are too many of them to stun them all and if they start shooting hexes they will give away their position. 

 

” _Accio Cloak!_ ” one of the Death Eater yells and Harry hurries to glasp the folds of the Invisibility Cloak tighter, but nothing happens. 

 

”Not under your wrapper then, Potter?” the Death Eater yells, then turns towards the others, ”Spread out. He’s here.”

 

Six of them set off down the street and Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly back into a small sidestreet. 

 

”Let’s just leave!” Hermione whispers. ”Disapparate now!”

 

”Great idea”, Ron says immediately, but Harry shakes his head; they can’t go now, they just can’t. 

 

”They were ready for us”, he whispers back. ”I think they’d set up that spell to warn them we’d come, and I reckon they’ve probably done something to keep us here, to trap us —”

 

”What about the Dementors?” one of the Death Eaters growl. 

 

”The Dark Lord wants to kill the boy himself —!”

 

”Yeah, and the Dementors won’t kill him! The Dark Lord wants the boy’s life, not his soul — he’ll just be easier to kill after he’s been kissed —!”

 

Dread slams into Harry; to repel Dementors they will have to produce Patronuses, and then they will definitely give their position away, plus they won’t be able to defend themselves against the Death Eaters and at the same time maintain focus on the Patronus charms… 

 

”We’re going to have to Disapparate, Harry!” Hermione whispers, terrified. 

 

The familiar cold settles over the street and the few lights, including the stars overhead are snuffed out. 

 

 _No_ , Harry thinks hopelessly, _we’re so close… so close…_

 

But he knows Hermione is right. To stay now, with Dementors coming for them on top of everything else, would be suicide. 

 

He nods reluctantly, but Hermione’s arm is already closing around his, and then he feels her turning on the spot… and nothing happens — 

 

Hermione gasps in horror; Harry’s heart does a back flip inside his ribcage… _They’re trapped…_

 

Dread and fear and hopelessness washes over Harry in great big waves; this is it, they have failed, _he_ has failed, he has failed everyone… _Voldemort has won… It’s all over…_ Glancing down the street, Harry sees ten or more Dementors gliding into view… _Wait,_ he thinks vaguely. _Wait, no, it’s_ not _over, not yet_ — he draws his wand and aims resolutely — he will not suffer the Dementor’s Kiss, whatever happens next, he will not be kissed!

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry thinks of his mother’s letter to Sirius and warmth starts seeping into body again as he concentrates on the domestic picture she’d painted of their lives together, he thinks of her last words to him and how her love shielded him from Voldemort’s Killing Curse; he thinks about Hagrid telling him he’s a wizard on his eleventh birthday; Sirius hugging him goodbye for the last time; Severus holding him while he cried at Spinner's End, comforting him; he thinks of Severus kissing him, saving his life, kissing him, _kissing him, kissing_ —

 

” _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

 

The silver stag springs from Harr's wand and charges the Dementors, sending them scattering down the street… A jubilant yell can be heard from round the corner and then running footsteps approaching quickly, ”He’s down here, he’s down here! I saw his Patronus!”

 

Harry stumbles back and knocks his shoulder against Ron’s chest. His friend’s arm flies out to steady him before he trips and tumbles over. 

 

”What do we do?” Ron whispers urgently. 

 

Before Harry has a chance to come up with a reply however, there’s a creaking noise to their right as a door opens. 

 

”Potter, in here, quick!” a dark voice rumbles from the darkness inside the house. 

 

The three of them hurry inside immediately. 

 

”Upstairs”, the voice says. ”Keep the cloak on and keep quiet!”

 

The man shoves past them and walks out into the street, slamming the door shut behind him. Harry looks around wildly, but it’s impossible to make anything out in the darkness so there’s no way for him to guess where they are. Suddenly, a dim light appears on the other side of a grimy window and Harry sees the grubby bar of the Hog’s Head right in front of them. 

 

They run behind the bar and through a doorway leading to a rickety staircase that takes them to the level above where they find a sitting room, empty save for a threadbare carpet, a small fireplace and a large oil painting of a blonde girl. 

 

They can hear angry voices from the street below and still hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, they sidle up to the window and peer out at their Savior, whom Harry realises must be the gruff barman of the Hog’s Head. 

 

”So what!” he is yelling at the Death Eaters now. ”So what! You send ruddy Dementors down my street, I’ll send a Patronus back at ’em, I’ve told you, I won’t have Dementors near me, I’ve told you that, I won’t have it!”

 

”That wasn’t your Patronus”, snarls one of the Death Eaters furiously. ”That was a stag, that was Potter’s —!”

 

”Stag!” the barman roars, pulling out his wand. ” _Stag!_ You idiot — _expecto patronum_!”

 

Something huge and horned erupts from the barman’s wand and charges down the street. 

 

”That is not what I saw —” the Death Eater says, but he sounds unsure. 

 

”Curfew’s been broken, you heard the noise”, one of the others insist. ”Someone was out in the street against regulations —”

 

”If I want to put my cat out for the night, I will, and your curfew be damned!”

 

” _You_ set off the Caterwauling Charm?”

 

”And what if I did? Going to cart me off to Azkaban? Kill me for sticking my nose out my own front door? Do it, then, if you want to! But I hope for your sakes you haven’t pressed your little Dark Marks and summoned him. He’s not going to like being called here for me and my cat, I tell you that much!”

 

”Don’t you worry about us, worry about yourself, breaking curfew —!”

 

”And where will you lot traffic potions and poisons when my pub’s closed down, eh? What will happen to your little sidelines then? I keep my mouth shut, it’s why you come here, isn’t it?”

 

”I still say I saw a stag Patronus!” the first Death Eater shouts in frustration.

 

”Stag? It’s a _goat,_ idiot!”

 

”All right, all right, maybe we made a mistake”, another Death Eater says. ”Break curfew again and we won’t be so lenient, though!”

 

Harry, Ron and Hermione all breathe a sigh of relief and Hermione sinks down on the floor. Harry pulls the curtains over the windows, then removes the Cloak. They can hear the barman bolting the door downstairs and then his footsteps on the creaking stairs. 

 

”You bloody fools”, he says gruffly when he joins them in the sitting room. ”What were you thinking, coming here?”

 

”Thank you”, Harry says weakly. ”Really. You saved our lives. We can’t thank you enough —”

 

The barman grunts and lights a couple of candles. Harry walks up to him and peers into his face, or what little of it that can be glimpsed amongst the stringy, grey hair and beard and a pair of grimy glasses, but there is no mistaking the brilliant blue eyes. 

 

”It’s you”, Harry says. ”Your eye that I’ve been seeing in the mirror… you sent Dobby to help us…”

 

The barman stares back silently for a few seconds, then nods and looks around as if expecting the house-elf to pop up suddenly, ”I’d’ve thought he be with you, where’ve you left ’im?”

 

”He’s dead”, Harry says. ”He was killed.”

 

”I’m sorry to hear that”, the old man admits, but his face remains impassive. ”I liked that elf.”

 

”You’re Aberforth, aren’t you?” Harry asks, knowing it to be true even as the old man avoids answering, because there is a family resemblance there that makes something tighten in Harry’s chest. ”You’re Dumbledore’s brother… How did you get this mirror?” 

 

He indicates the small mirror propped up on the floor next to the door, the mirror that had once belonged to Sirius and whose twin had belonged to Harry, of which he only had that one shard left since he broke it nearly two years ago. 

 

”Bought it from Dung”, Aberforth says. ”Albus told me what it was. Been trying to keep an eye out for you.”

 

”The silver doe!” Ron gasps suddenly. ”Was that you too?”

 

”What are you talking about?” Aberforth says. 

 

Harry frowns at Ron too, because he thought Ron, like Harry, had assumed the doe belonged to Severus.

 

”Someone sent a doe Patronus to us!”

 

”Brains like that, you could be a Death Eater, son… Haven’t I just proved my Patronus is a goat?”

 

”Oh… yeah”, Ron says, looking both embarassed and disappointed. 

 

Harry bristles, wondering why Ron would be so excited about the prospect of anyone other than Severus sending that doe to help them — _hadn’t Severus saved Harry from drowning? and hadn’t he destroyed the Horcrux? why would Ron still doubt him?_ — _or maybe he isn’t doubting his loyalties,_ Harry thinks sourly. _Maybe he just doesn’t like the idea of Severus helping us because he doesn’t like_ Severus, _and he doesn’t like that_ I _like him…_

 

As if reading Harry’s mind, Ron gives him a sideways glance and makes an apologetic face, and Harry gives him a tiny nod. 

 

Aberforth makes them some food and they wolf it down greedily. Harry can’t even remember the last time he wasn’t hungry, and his stomach churns in warning as he shovels too much food into his mouth too quickly. 

 

”Well”, Aberforth says once they’ve cleaned their plates. ”We need to think of the best way to get you out of here —”

 

”We’re not going anywhere”, Harry says immediately. ”We’re need to get into Hogwarts, and it needs to be tonight.”

 

”Don’t be stupid, boy.”

 

”We’ve got to —”

 

”What you _need to do_ , is to get as far from here as you can —”

 

”You don’t understand — and there isn’t much time — Dumbledore, I mean, your brother, he wanted us to —”

 

”My brother wanted a lot of things”, Aberforth interrupts. ”And people tended to get hurt while he carried out his grand plans… You need to get away from this school, Potter, and get out of the country. Forget about my brother and his plans, he’s gone now, and you don’t owe him anything —”

 

”You don’t understand”, Harry says again. ”He left me a job —”

 

”Did he, now? Nice job, is it? Easy? Sort of thing you’d expect an unqualified wizard kid to be able to carry out without overstretching themselves?”

 

Ron laughs bitterly, and Harry frowns, ”Not exactly, but I’ve got to —”

 

” _’Got to’?_ Why _’got to’?_ He’s dead, isn’t he? Let it go, boy, before you follow him into the grave! Save yourself!”

 

”I can’t.”

 

”Why not?” Aberforth demands immediately, his blue eyes flashing behind his dirty lenses, but it’s impossible to tell if he’s angry or in fact excited. 

 

”I —” Harry trails off, he doesn’t even know where to begin, he’s exhausted and overwhelmed, so he just shakes his head. ”But you’re fighting too”, he counters instead. ”You’re in the Order —”

 

”I was”, Aberforth says. ”The Order of the Phoenix is finished. You-Know-Who’s won. It’s over.”

 

”No”, Harry says firmly. ”No. If you don’t want to help us, that’s fine, but I’ve got to get into the castle tonight. I have a job to do. If you’ve given up, that’s — that’s up to you — but I —”

 

”You, what?” Aberforth grumbles quietly and his eyes are definitely excited now. 

 

Harry swallows thickly, his heart pounding furiously again in his chest, ”I’m going to keep going until I succeed — or I die — Don’t think I don’t know how this might end, I’ve known for years.”

 

He is aware of Ron and Hermione staring at him in mute horror, but he refuses to look at them now. 

 

Aberforth seems to search his eyes for something, and whatever it was he must have found it because he nods suddenly with a look of grim satisfaction on his face, and then he leans back and turns to the portrait of the blonde girl, ”You know what to do…”

 

The girl smiles serenly, then turns on her heel and starts walking away from them. Not sideways out of the painting, as the inhabitants of portraits usually do when they want to leave their picture frames, but instead she walks deeper into the painting… Harry watches transfixed as she gets smaller and smaller, until finally she disappears completely into the background. 

 

”Er — what —?” Ron says. 

 

”There’s only one way into the castle now”, Aberforth says. ”They’ve got all the secret passageways covered at both ends and Dementors stationed all around the borders of the grounds. But they don’t know about this… Although, what you think you’ll be able to do inside the castle, with Snape in charge and the Carrows as his deputies, is beyond me… But you say you’re prepared to die, so…”

 

The girl — Ariana, Harry realises. Dumbledore's little sister. He'd seen her picture in Rita Skeeter's book — comes walking back, joined by a new person who was limping along after her, looking excited. His hair is longer than Harry has ever seen it before and his face is littered with cuts and bruises. Harry stares in wonder as Neville Longbottom approaches the foreground of the portrait and suddenly the frame swings forward, revealing a real tunnel behind it, as well as the real Neville Longbottom, who leaps out of the portrait hole and embraces Harry eagerly, ”I knew you’d come! _I knew it, Harry_!”

 

”Neville — what the — how —?”

 

But Neville isn’t paying attention to him, he’s spotted Ron and Hermoine and with another shout of delight he’s enveloped the both of them in a huge hug as well. 

 

”Neville, what’s happened to you?” Harry asks, studying the boy more closely and realising that what he’d first taken for some bumps and bruises are real injuries, and judging by the way the boy carries himself he seems to have at least a broken rib and a sprained ankle as well. 

 

”What, this?” he says dismissively. ”This is nothing. You should see Seamus… Shall we get going then? Oh”, he turns to Aberforth. ”Ab, there might be a couple of more people on they way.”

 

”Couple more?” Aberforth repeats darkly. ”What d’you mean, a couple more, Longbottom? There’s a curfew and a Caterwauling Charm on the whole village!”

 

”I know, that’s why they’ll be Apparating directly into the bar. Just send them down the passage when they get here, will you? Thanks a lot!”

 

Neville gives Hermione and Ron a hand up into the portrait hole, then follows them. Harry turns to Aberforth, who looks even more uncomfortable than before. 

 

”I don’t know how to thank you”, Harry says earnestly. ”You’ve saved our lives twice.”

 

”Yeah, well”, Aberforth mutters. ”Look after ’em then. Might not be able to save ’em a third time.”

 

Harry clambers after the others and joins them in the tunnel as Ron is asking Neville about Hogwarts. 

 

”Well, it’s not really like Hogwarts anymore”, Neville says. ”Do you know about the Carrows?”

 

”Those two Death Eaters who teach here now?” Ron says, and Harry remembers Snape muttering about them as well, saying he had to get back to Hogwarts before the Carrows noticed his absence. 

 

”They do more than teach”, Neville says. ”They’re in charge of all discipline. They like punishements, the Carrows…”

 

”Like Umbridge?”

 

”Nah, they make Umbridge look tame in comparison. The other teachers are supposed to refer us to them if we do anything wrong, but they don’t if they can avoid it. You can tell they hate them just as much as we do… Amycus, the bloke, he teaches what used to be Defense Against the Dark Arts, except it’s just Dark Arts now. We’re supposed to practise the Cruciatus Curse on people who’ve earned detentions —”

 

” _What_?” Harry, Ron and Hermione all gasp together. 

 

”Yeah”, Neville says darkly. ”That’s how I got this…” he indicates one of the gashes in his face. ”I refused to do it. Some people are into though, like Crabbe and Goyle, they love it. First time they’ve ever been top in anything, I bet…”

 

Harry’s mind is whirring, _it doesn’t make any sense, how can Severus allow something like that —?_

 

”Alecto, Amycus’s sister, she teaches Muggle Studies, which is compulsory for everyone. We’ve all got to listen to her explain how Muggles are like animals, stupid and dirty, and how they drove wizards into hiding by being vicious towards them and how natural order is now being restored — I got this one”, he indicates another gash. ”for asking her how much Muggle blood she and her brother have got —”

 

”Blimey, Neville”, Ron exclaims. ”There’s a time and a place for getting a smart mouth!”

 

”You didn't hear her”, Neville insists. ”You wouldn’t have stood for it either. Besides, it helps if people stand up to them, it gives everyone hope. I used to notice that when you did it, Harry —”

 

”But I don’t understand”, Harry blurts out. ”How can Se- Snape —?”

 

”Snape?” Neville says in surprise. ”Well, he’s just as bad, isn’t he?”

 

” _What?_ ” Harry yelps, feeling like someone has punched him hard in the stomach and driven all air out of his body. 

 

”What?” Neville repeats, nonplussed. 

 

”What do you mean _he’s just as bad?_ ” Harry demands as the blood drains from his face, leaving him cold and numb. ”Is Snape — t- torturing — students, as well?”

 

”Wha—? No, no, I didn’t mean that”, Neville says. ”But he’s a Death Eater, isn’t he? I mean, he appointed the Carrows in the first place —”

 

”Maybe he didn’t have a choice, Harry”, Hermione murmurs and gives him a meaningful look and Harry latches onto it for reassurance, _yes,_ he thinks furiously, _he didn’t have a choice, Voldemort made him, and he can’t exactly refuse can he…_

 

”What’s going on?” Neville says suspisciously, looking between the three of them. 

 

”There’s no time”, Hermione says quickly, cutting Harry off before he’s got a chance to reply. ”But things might not be as they seem in regards to Snape.”

 

” _Not as they seem?_ ” Neville repeats incredulously. 

 

”We don’t have time to explain right now”, she insists.

 

They turn a corner and finally, ahead of them, is the end of the passage and a little door just like the one concealed behind Ariana’s portrait. Neville squeezes in front of them and opens the door, ”Look who it is! Didn’t I tell you?”

 

As Harry emerges into the room beyond the door, he’s met with several screams and yells — 

 

”HARRY!”

 

”It’s Potter, it’s POTTER!”

 

” _Ron! Hermione!”_

 

In the next moment, the three of them are engulfed by a small crowd, tossed from hug to hug, as other arms reaches out to clap them on their backs or ruffle their hair. Harry feels like he’s just won the Quidditch Cup. 

 

”Okay, okay, calm down everyone!” Neville says in a loud, carrying voice and amazingly, the crowd listens and immediately steps back, still grinning at Harry expectantly. 

 

”Where are we?” Harry asks as he gazes around the huge room in wonder, taking in the multicoloured hangings and hammocks, bookcases and other essentials. 

 

”Room of Requirement, of course!” Neville beams. ”It’s really surpassed itself, hasn’t it? The Carrows were chasing me one day, and I knew I had just one chance for a hideout: I managed to get through the door and this is what I found. Well, it wasn’t exactly like this at first, it was smaller and it only had one hammock, but it’s expanded as more and more of the DA have arrived…”

 

”And the Carrows can’t get in?” Harry says, smiling. 

 

”No”, Seamus Finnigan says and Harry does a double-take, he hadn’t even recognised Seamus at first, his face being so bruised and swollen. ”It’s a proper hideout, as long as at least one of us stays in here, they can’t get at us, the door just won’t open. It’s all down to Neville. He really _gets_ the room!”

 

”It’s all very straight-forward”, Neville says modestly. ”I’d been in here about a day and half and I was getting really hungry, and I wished I could get something to eat, and that’s when the passage to the Hog’s Head opened up. I went through it and met Aberforth. He’s been providing us with food, because for some reason that’s the one thing the Room can’t supply us with…”

 

”Yeah, well, food is one of the five exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration”, Ron speaks up to general astonishment, and Hermione turns to give him a decidedly proud and admiring look. 

 

”But tell us what you guys have been up to”, Ernie Macmillan says. ”Is it true you broke in to Gringotts?”

 

”Yeah”, Ron says and everyone whoops and claps their hands, he takes a little bow. 

 

” _And you escaped on the back of a dragon_?”

 

”Yep! Hermione wanted to keep it as a pet but —”

 

”Don’t exaggerate, Ron”, Hermione says with an exasperated eye-roll. 

 

Harry turns his back to them, his scar searing in pain again, much worse than before. He presses the palm of his hand against it and screws his eyes shut. He is standing inside the ruined shack, the rotten floorboards uprooted at his feet, revealing a golden box that lies open, empty — 

 

Voldemort’s scream of panicked fury seems to vibrate through Harry’s blood, chilling it. With enormous effort he pulls himself out of Voldemort’s mind again, wheezing for breath and wiping the cold sweat from his face absent-mindedly and staring around wildly, searching for Ron and Hermione. Ron is right at his side, one of his arms slung around Harry’s shoulder, propping him up. 

 

”Are you all right, Harry?” Neville says and even though Harry can see him _right there_ , his voice seems to be coming from far away. 

 

 _”Yeah”,_ he gasps. ”Fine — I just — we have to —”

 

He pins Hermione with a meaningful look, trying to communicate with her silently. She looks paler than normal, and her mouth is set in a thin line, but she nods in determination. Harry looks to Ron, ”We need to get going.”

 

The redhead’s nostrils flare and there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes, and he nods too. 

 

”What are we going to do then, Harry?” Seamus asks. ”What’s the plan?”

 

”Plan?” Harry repeats, feeling sluggish from trying to block out Voldemort’s thoughts and emotions. ”Well, there’s something we — Ron, Hermione and I — need to do, and then we’ll get out of here…”

 

Nobody is laughing or whooping anymore. Every face in the Room is staring at Harry. 

 

”What do you mean _’get out of here’_?” Neville says, frowning. 

 

”Well, we haven’t come to stay, there’s something important that we need to do —”

 

”What is it?”

 

”I — I can’t tell you.”

 

A ripple of muttering can be heard in the small crowd, and Neville’s frown deepens, ”You can’t tell us? It’s to do with fighting You-Know-Who, though, isn’t it?”

 

”Well, yeah —”

 

”Then we can help you!” 

 

The other members of Dumbledore’s Army nod immediately, some enthusiastic and some solemn, but none hesitant. Harry shakes his head, _You don’t understand,_ he wants to shout at them, but there is no time for this, every second they waste now — 

 

”Dumbledore left the three of us a job”, Ron explains. ”Just the three of us. We weren’t allowed to tell anyone else.”

 

”We’re his army!” Neville says fiercely. ” _Dumbledore’s Army!_ We’re all in this together, we’ve been keeping it going while you three have been off on your own —”

 

”It hasn’t exactly been a picnic, mate!” Ron counters. 

 

”I never said it had, but I don’t see why you can’t trust us. Everyone in this Room’s been fighting and they’ve been driven in here because the Carrows were hunting them down. Everyone in here has proven they’re loyal to Dumbledore — to you!” he turns back to Harry.

 

”Look”, Harry says impatiently, but before he can get another word out the door to the passage has flown open and Luna and Dean clamber inside the room, beaming happily at them.

 

”Hi everyone!” Luna says. ”Oh, it’s great to be back!”

 

”Luna”, Harry says distractedly, feeling slightly faint as the situation seems to race out of his hands. ”What are you doing here? How did you —?”

 

”I sent for them”, Neville says and holds up one of the fake Galleons the DA had used ot communicate with each other. ”I promised her and Ginny that if you turned up I’d let them know. We all thought that if you came back, it would mean revolution. That we were going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows.”

 

”Of course that’s what it means”, Luna says brightly, turning her protruding, dreamy eyes on Harry. ”We’re going to fight them out of the castle, aren’t we Harry?”

 

”Listen”, Harry says hoarsely as panic starts rising inside him. ”I — I’m sorry but — that’s not what we’ve come back for, like Ron said we’ve come to — well, there’s something we need to do, and then —”

 

”You’re going to leave us in this mess?” Michael Corner demands. 

 

”No!” Ron says. ”What we’re doing will benefit everyone in the end, it’s all about trying to take down You-Know-Who, innit —!”

 

”Then let us help!” Neville says angrily. 

 

The door opens again and to Harry’s horror Ginny, Fred, George, Lee Jordan and Cho Chang climb through. 

 

”So what’s the plan, Harry?” George says by ways of greeting, grinning expectantly at him.

 

”There isn’t one”, Harry says shrilly, feeling disorientated by the sudden appearance of all these people, while his scar keeps burning. 

 

”Just going to make it up as we go along, eh?” Fred says and rubs his hands together enthusiastically. ”My favourite kind!”

 

”You’ve got to stop this —!” Harry tells Neville desperately. 

 

”Why can’t they help though?” Ron says suddenly. 

 

” _What?_ ”

 

”They can help”, he insists, then dropping his voice so that only Harry and Hermione can hear he adds, ”Look, we don’t know where it is and we’ve got to find it fast, yeah? They can help us look! We don’t have to tell them it’s a Horcrux.”

 

Harry looks from Ron to Hermione who nods slowly, ”I think Ron’s right. We don’t even know what we’re looking for. We need all the help we can get. Voldemort can be here at any moment.”

 

Harry nods, they’re right. 

 

”Okay”, he says to the room at large. ”Listen up, everyone! There’s something we need to find, something that is hidden in the castle, and it’s very important that we find it before — well, before You-Know-Who — and — er — it might have belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw… So, has anyone heard of an object like that? Has anyone ever come across something with her eagle on it, for example?”

 

He looks over to the group of Ravenclaws hopefully, but they all shake their heads slowly. 

 

”Well, there’s her lost diadem”, Luna speaks up. 

 

 _Here we go_ , Harry thinks as he turns towards her with a forced air of patience and interest. 

 

”I told you about it, remember Harry? The lost diadem of Ravenclaw? Daddy’s trying to duplicate it, you know.”

 

”Yeah, but the lost diadem”, Michael Corner says rolling his eyes unkindly. ”Is _lost,_ Luna. That’s sort of the point.”

 

A few people snicker quietly. But Harry is suddenly hopeful, if this lost diadem is something that even Michael Corner has heard about, and it’s not something that only Luna and her dad believes in —

 

”When was it lost?” he says quickly, turning to Michael. 

 

”Centuries ago, they say”, he replies and Harry’s heart sinks again. ”Professor Flitwick says the diadem vanished with Ravenclaw herself. People have looked but… nobody’s ever found a trace of it, have they?” he turns to the other Ravenclaws for confirmation and they all shake their heads in agreement. 

 

”Sorry, but what _is_ a diadem anyway?” Ron says.

 

”It’s like a sort of crown”, Terry Boot informs them. ”And Ravenclaw’s was supposed to have magical properties, enhance the wisdom of the wearer.”

 

”Yes, Daddy’s Wrackspurt siphons —”

 

”And none of you have ever seen anything that looks like it?” Harry cuts Luna off. 

 

They all shake their heads again. The pain in Harry’s scar spikes again and the Room of Requirement swims before his eyes, and suddenly he is aware of flying through the air, the snake Nagini a comforting weight around his shoulders — flying either to the underground lake or to Hogwarts, Harry isn’t sure, but either way there is hardly any time left —

 

”He’s on the move”, he says under his breath to Ron and Hermoine who look stricken. 

 

”If you want to know what the diadem is supposed to look like, I could take you up to our Common Room and show you, Harry”, Luna says. ”Ravenclaw is wearing it in her statue, you know…”

 

”Okay — okay —” he says and turns to Ron and Hermione again. ”It’s not much to go on, but — you stay here and keep the — the other one — safe, all right?”

 

Neville guides them over to a small cupboard in the corner and tells Harry that it will lead them out of the Room, but in order to prevent unwanted guests from finding it and using it to get inside the Room, its’ exit is never in the same place twice, so it’s impossible to know where you’ll end up. 

 

”And they patrol the corridors at night, so be careful, Harry.”

 

”We’ll be fine”, Harry says shortly, ushering Luna in front of him into the small passage and then putting the Invisibility Cloak over the two of them and getting out the Marauder’s Map as they near the end of the passage. ”Okay, we’re on the fifth floor… Let’s just wait a few seconds, for Filch to pass…”

 

”This way, Harry”, Luna whispers as they climb out of the hidden door and pulls him towards a spiral staircase. 

 

At the top of the stairs they reach a door without handle or keyhole, only a knocker shaped like an eagle. Luna reaches out and knocks once. The eagle opens its’ beak and says, ”Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?”

 

”Hmm… what do you think, Harry?” Luna says. 

 

”What? Isn’t there just a password?”

 

”No, you have to answer a question.”

 

”What if you get it wrong?” Harry says desperately, keenly aware of every second that passes. 

 

”Then you have to wait for someone who knows the answer. That way you learn, see?”

 

”Yeah, but, Luna, we really don’t have time —”

 

”No, I see what you mean”, Luna says seriously and turns to address the eagle knocker. ”In that case, I think the answer is that a circle has no beginning.”

 

”Well reasoned”, the bronze eagle says and the door opens. 

 

Scrambling across the Ravenclaw Common Room, still huddled together under the Cloak, Harry and Luna approach a niche opposite the door where a tall statue of white marble stands. Harry immediately recognises Rowena Ravenclaw from the bust he saw at Luna’s house. Walking right up to the statue, Harry peers at the top of Ravenclaw’s head where a delicate-looking circlet sits. It’s not unlike the tiara Fleur wore at hers and Bill’s wedding, Harry thinks. Except this one has tiny words etched into it. Harry steps out from under the Cloak so that he can climb onto the plinth to read them.

 

” _’Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure’_ ”, he mumbles.

 

”Which makes you pretty skint, witless”, a voice cackles suddenly behind him. 

 

Harry’s heart leaps up into his throat and his blood runs cold. He spins around and immediately slips off the plinth and lands hard on the floor. He stares up at Alecto Carrow in horror, scrambling for his wand, but it’s too late — she’s got her index finger firmly pressed against the Dark Mark on her arm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I don't know if you've noticed but I've added a chapter... This fic has really grown out of all proportions! I might have to add another chapter, but I'm going to try and get everything wrapped up in 29... Thank you so much for sticking with me! I really love getting your comments!


	25. The Battle Begins...

Harry gasps in horror as he stares at the woman’s talon-tipped finger pressing against the hideous Mark, and in the next split-second his scar bursts open, pain flood his head and with every beat of his heart ice shoots out in waves, filling his veins —

 

His head snaps up and he stares out into the dark night, barely aware of the cold sea breeze slapping his face as triumph soars in his heart; _they have the boy!_

 

A loud _bang_ tears Harry out of Voldemort’s mind and he heaves a heavy breath, staring around wildly, he sees Alecto Carrow lying sprawled on the floor next to him, out cold —

 

”I’ve never stunned anyone except in our DA lessons”, the serene voice of Luna Lovegood sounds from somwhere to his left where she is still hidden beneath his Invisibility Cloak. ”It was a lot noisier than I’d have thought it would be…”

 

”Luna”, Harry gasps in relief, and then, hearing the rumbling of footsteps from overhead he jumps to his feet hurriedly. ”Luna! Where are you? I need to get back under the Cloak —!”

 

Her feet appear disembodied in front of him and he shoots his hand out and dives in under the hem of the Cloak and disappearing from view just as the Common Room fills with wary Ravenclaw students. They gather around the stunned figure of Alecto Carrow and whisper urgently amongst themselves. 

 

”I think she might be dead!” a fourth-year exclaim in obvious delight. 

 

Harry is vaguely aware of Voldemort continuing towards the underground lake to check on the locket before heading towards Hogwarts, but that’s a small comfort, Harry thinks, it will take him next to no time to discover the locket to be missing and then he will be here —

 

A sudden rap on the door startles them all, and the voice of the eagle knocker speaks: ”Where do vanished objects go?”

 

”I dunno, do I?” snarls a voice that Harry recognises as the Carrow brother, Amycus, and his heart skips a beat. ”Alecto? _Alecto?_ Are you there? Have you got him? Open the door!”

 

The Ravenclaws are all staring at each other in panic, their whispers more urgent now. A series of loud _bangs_ as though someone is firing a gun towards the unhelpful door rings out in the hush suddenly, making them all jump in fright.

 

”ALECTO! If he comes here and we haven’t got Potter — d’you want to go the same way as the Malfoys? ANSWER ME!” Amycus bellows from the other side of the door, as it rattles under the weight of his pushes, but it still refuses to allow him entry. 

 

”May I ask what you are doing, Professor Carrow?” the all-too-familiar voice of Minerva McGonagall joins his on the other side of the door and Harry feels a surge of hope in his belly. 

 

”Trying — to get — through this damned — door!” Amycus shouts. ”Go and get Flitwick! Get him to open it, now!”

 

”But isn’t your sister in there?” Professor McGonagall asks swiftly. ”Didn’t Professor Flitwick let her in earlier this evening at your urgent request? Perhaps she could open the door for you? Then you needn’t wake up the entire castle…”

 

”She isn’t answering, you old besom!” Amycus snarls. ” _You_ open it! Do it, now!”

 

”Certainly, if you wish it”, McGonagall says with a distinctly icy tone and following a swift rap on the door and the eagle’s question of where vanished objects go, she answers, ”Into non-being, which is to say, everything.”

 

”Nicely phrased”, the eagle knocker says and the door swings open. 

 

Amycus Carrow hurtles over the threshold and storms into the Common Room, sending the remaining Ravenclaws scattering as he howls in rage at the sight of his sister’s body on the floor. He pulls his wand and looks around wildly, barely aware of McGonagall joining him. Harry has never been so happy to see his Head of House. 

 

”What have they done, the little whelps!” Amycus screams. ”I’ll Cruciate the lot of ’em ’til they tell me who did it! And what’s the Dark Lord going to say? We haven’t got ’im! The poisonous little pests, they’ve gone and killed her —!”

 

”She isn’t dead”, McGonagall says haughtily and glares at him. ”She’s merely stunned, she will be fine.”

 

”NO SHE BLOODY WELL WON’T!” Amycus hollers. ”Not once the Dark Lord gets his hands on her! She’s gone and sent for him, hasn’t she! I felt me Mark burn when she did it, and now he thinks we’ve got Potter!”

 

” _’Got Potter’?_ ” McGonagall says sharply. ”What do you mean?”

 

”He told us Potter might try and get inside Ravenclaw Tower, and to send for him if we caught him!” he wails, fisting great lumps of hair from his already balding head as he paces the floor in apparant anguish, staring between his sister’s body and the dark windows, as if expecting Voldemort to soar through them at any moment. 

 

”Why would Harry Potter try and get into Ravenclaw Tower? Potter belongs in my house!” McGonagall says incredulously, and Harry can detect a hint of pride under her haughty tone and his chest swells with affection for the old witch. 

 

”We was told he might, I dunno do I?” Amycus roars, then speaking urgently, almost as if talking to himself, ”We can push it off on the kids, yeah, the ones up there, we’ll say they ambushed her and made her press the Mark, yeah, yeah, that’s why he got a false alarm, because of the kids — let them take the punishment — couple of kids more or less, what’s the difference…”

 

”Only the difference between truth and lies, courage and cowardice”, McGonagall says coldly, her hazel eyes flashing dangerously behind her square spectacles even as the blood drains from her face. ”A difference, in short, that your sister and yourself seem unable to appreciate, but let me make one thing crystal clear — you are not going to endanger a single student of this school to save your own useless hide — I shall not permit it!”

 

Amycus whirls around with another feral growl and steps so close to her that she has to jerk her head back to prevent his nose from knocking into her forehead, but despite this, she does not take a step back but stays glaring defiantly at him. 

 

”Ot is not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall”, he snarls in her face. ”Your time is over. It’s us what’s in charge now, and you’ll back me up or pay the price…”

 

MacGonagall merely glares back, and he spits into her face — before Harry knows what he’s doing, he’s wrenched the Cloak off him and levelled his wand on the Death Eater. 

 

”You shouldn’t have done that”, he says grimly and when Amycus whirls around to face him, he shouts ” _Crucio!_ ”

 

The Death Eater is lifted off his feet by the force of the hex, his limbs twitching and his back arching as he howls in pain, then he smashes into a bookcase and crumbles unconsciously on the floor. 

 

”Potter”, McGonagall whispers, clutching her heart through her tartan dressing gown. ”Potter — you’re here — you — what —? _How —?_ ”

 

She seems to draw herself up to her full height and with some effort she pulls herself together, ”Potter, that was extremely foolish!”

 

”He spat at you”, Harry says. 

 

”Potter, I — that was very, very gallant of you — but don’t you realise —?”

 

”Yeah, I do”, he assures her. ”Professor, Voldemort’s on his way.”

 

”Oh, are we allowed to say his name now?” Luna speaks up suddenly, appearing out of thin air as she pulls the Invisibility Cloak off. 

 

This sudden appearance of yet another outlawed student seems to be too much for Professor McGonagall who staggers back and falls into a nearby armchair, staring between the two of them in wonder. 

 

”Yeah, I don’t think it makes much difference now”, Harry tells Luna calmly. ”He already knows I’m here and he’s on his way…”

 

At the back of his mind, he’s aware of Voldemort sailing across the underground lake towards the little island with the stone basin… _not long now_ , he thinks.

 

”You must flee!” McGonagall tells him. ”Now, Potter, while you still can —”

 

”I can’t. There’s something I need to do. Professor, do you know where the diadem of Ravenclaw might be?”

 

”The d- diadem of — Potter! — what —!”

 

”Professor!” Harry cuts her off. ”I _have to_ find it. Dumbledore left me a job to do, it’s very important.”

 

”D- Dumbledore — left you a — ” McGonagall whispers in horror, then with a deep breath she pulls herself up again and glancing over at Amycus who seems to be coming to with a groan, she points her wand at him, ” _Imperio._ ”

 

Harry watches as McGonagall guides Amycus over to where his sister is still knocked out. He grabs her wand and delivers it to McGonagall along with his own, before he goes back to lie next to his sister on the floor. With another wave of her wand, McGonagall binds the their bodies with a shimmering, silvery rope. 

 

She then turns to Harry with an air of determination, ”If what you’re telling me is true, Potter, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is really on his way to Hogwarts, then we have to secure the school — while you look for this — this diadem —!”

 

”Is that possible?” he asks, hardly daring to get excited but feeling a surge of hope anyway. 

 

”I think so”, McGonagall says drily, raising one eyebrow delicately. ”We teachers are rather good at magic, you know. I am sure we will be able to hold him off for a while if we all put out best efforts into it. Of course, something will have to be done about Professor Snape —”

 

Harry’s heart skips a beat, ”N-No —”

 

”— and if Hogwarts is about to enter into a stage of siege, with the Dark Lord at the gates, it would be advisable to to take as many students out of the way as possible, but with the Floo Network under observation and Apparition impossible within the grounds, I don’t know —”

 

”There’s another way”, Harry says quickly. ”If you go to the Room of Requirement, you’ll find Neville and the others, they’ll show you how to get to the Hog’s Head from there, but listen, Professor, about Snape —”

 

”Potter, we are talking about hundreds of student—”, McGonagall says.

 

”Yeah, I know, but if Voldemort and the Death Eaters are concentrating on the school boundaries they won’t be interested in anyone Disapparating from inside the Hog’s Head, will they?”

 

”I suppose you have a point there”, McGonagall mutters. ”Well, let’s go. We need to alert the other Heads of House — you better get back under your Invisibility Cloak, both of you.”

 

She waves her wand and casts a silent charm; three silvery cats bursts out of the tip of the wand with spectacle markings around their eyes, similar to the ones around McGonagall’s own while in her animagus form, and the three of them sprint off in different directions. McGonagall strides over to the door and sends Harry and Luna an impatient glare over her shoulder as she reaches it. They hurry to slip under the Cloak again and follow her out of the Ravenclaw Common Room. 

 

They have to jog to keep up with the professor’s pace as she strides down the corridor and then descends the nearest staircase. Two floors down, they’re joined by another set of footsteps. Harry hears them first, and is just about to get out the Marauder’s Map when Professor McGonagall stops abruptly and raises her wand, ”Who’s there?”

 

”It is I”, a low voice speaks from the shadows and Harry’s heart jolts. 

 

Severus Snape steps into the dim light of the corridor from behind a suit of armour. He’s got his wand raised just like McGonagall, and the two of them move into place in front of each other, as though getting ready for a duel, and Harry’s heart sinks again — he never did get a chance to tell McGonagall about Snape — 

 

For a fleeting moment, Harry is struck by the elegant way Severus’ robes hang off his lithe figure, mirrored by the curtains of black hair that frame his pale face. His face is impassive and his eyes shuttered, his lips pressed thin, but Harry can still recall their softness as they pressed against his and despite the seriousness of the situation, he feels a flutter in his belly…

 

”Where are the Carrows?” Severus asks McGonagall quietly. 

 

”Whereever you told them to be, I expect, Severus”, she replies curtly.

 

Severus takes another step closer to her, but his eyes flit away from her face and scans the air around her as if he knows Harry is there, hidden beneath his Cloak. 

 

”I was under the impression”, he speaks quietly. ”that Alecto had apprehended an intruder…”

 

”Really? And what gave you that impression?” McGonagall says haughtily, and when Severus makes an involuntarily flexing movement with his left arm, she smiles bitterly. ”Oh, of course. I forgot. You Death Eaters have your own means of communicating, haven’t you?”

 

Severus merely glances at her face, then continues staring into seemingly empty space next to her, twice meeting Harry’s eyes accidentally, althought unaware of it himself. 

 

”I did not know it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva”, he says sleekly. 

 

”I thought I heard a disturbance.”

 

”Really? But all seems calm”, Severus counters and finally looks her in the eyes. ”Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist —”

 

Professor McGonagall moves faster than Harry could have ever believed, and his interjecting protest dies on the tip of his tongue as she makes a slashing wand movement through the air and he gasps in fright, certain that Severus will crumble to the ground unconscious before Harry has had the chance to explain to his Head of House, but Severus moves just as quickly as McGonagall and his Shield Charm stops whatever curse she sent at him with such force that it knocks her back slightly. 

 

Harry opens his mouth to speak again, but McGonagall has waved her wand again and he can only stare in awe-struck horror as a nearby torch leaps from its place on the wall and creates a ring of fire that hurtles through the air like a lasso towards Severus —

 

He makes an elborate gesture with his own wand and the ring of fire turns into a great, black serpent that lunges for McGonagall, who waves her wand and turns it into a smoke ring that turns in the air and solidifies and turns into a dozen daggers that fly towards Severus, who makes the suit of armour come to life and jump in front of him, shielding him from the daggers…

 

”Minerva!” a squeaky voice rings out in the silence after the last dagger has embedded itself in the suit of armour’s chest with a CLANG and Harry wheels around to see Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout come running down the corridor in their nightclothes, followed by a panting Professor Slughorn. 

 

”No!” Professor Flitwick squeals and raises his wand. ”You’ll do no more murders at Hogwarts!”

 

Harry turns around and stares in mute horror as the suit of armour rounds on Severus and proceeds to crush him with its heavy, iron arms. Severus struggles free and bolts into a nearby classroom, the other professors thundering after him with their wands held aloft. 

 

”Luna, come on —!” Harry gasps hurriedly and urges her to follow him as he sprints after them. 

 

”Coward! COWARD!” they hear McGonagall yell and Harry’s stomach churns unpleasantly. 

 

He more or less drags Luna inside the classroom, but when he sees McGonagall staring out an open window he completely forgets about staying hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak and tears it off and runs over to her. Ignoring the gasps from the other professors, he crashes into the window sill and stares down at the ground desperately, silently begging whatever powers there are out there, in the Universe, if any, to let Severus be okay —

 

”He jumped!” McGonagall says incredulously. 

 

”No!” Harry exclaims breathessly. ”You mean he’s — he’s — no, he’s not dead, he’s can’t be _dead_ —”

 

”Of course not!” she says bitterly. ”He still had his wand, unlike Dumbledore… and he seems to have picked up a few tricks from his master…”

 

With a jolt, Harry wrenches his gaze from the ground beneath the window and stares out into the darkness. He thinks he can see the faint outline of a dark figure soaring through the air, robes billowing in its wake, and relief seeps into his chest — but it’s short-lived when he thinks of where Severus is heading… Voldemort, he thinks darkly. And knowing how furious the Dark Lord is already, having been struggling against the seraing pain in his scar for the past hour, Harry can only guess what kind of welcome Severus will get once he reaches him…

 

His thoughts are interrupted by the heavy footfalls and panting breaths of Professor Slughorn as he finally joins them in the classroom.

 

”Harry! My dear boy — what a surprise! — Minerva, do please explain… Severus… what…?”

 

”Our Headmaster is taking a short break”, McGonagall says curtly, and Harry decides there’s no point in trying to explain now — it’s already too late. ”He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is coming; we must barricade the school.”

 

The other professors gasp in terror, and then look to Harry for some sort of confirmation. He simply nods, then stands back as they get organised. Professor Sprout suggests securing the castle and then assembling all the students in the Great Hall — and if those of age wish to stay and fight, they ought to be allowed to — Professor McGonagall agrees. 

 

”I can work from here”, Professor Flitwick says and starts casting complex protective spells on the windows. 

 

Harry approaches him cautiously, ”Professor Flitwick? Sorry to interrupt, but have you got any idea where the diadem of Ravenclaw might be? It’s important…”

 

”— _Protego horribilis_ — the diadem of Ravenclaw? I hardly think that would be much use in _this_ situation, Potter!”

 

”But have you ever seen it?”

 

” _Seen it?_ Nobody in living memory has seen it, boy!”

 

Harry feels a pang of disappointment and panic; _what, then, was the Horcrux hidden at Hogwarts?_

 

”We shall meet you and the Ravenclaws in the Great Hall, Filius!” McGonagall says and beckons for Harry and Luna to follow her out of the classroom. 

 

”My word”, Slughorn says, wringing his hands nervously. ”What a to-do! I’m not at all sure about this, Minerva. I mean, he is bound to find a way in isn’t he? And anyone who has tried to stop him — I mean to say — ”

 

”I shall expect you and the students of Slytherin House in the Great Hall in twenty minutes, Horace”, McGonagall says. ”If you wish to leave with your students, we shall not stop you. However, if you intend to try and sabotage our resistance in any way, or take up arms against us, then know this: we will duel to kill…”

 

”Minerva!” he says aghast. 

 

”The time has come for Slytherin House to decide where its’ loyalties lie”, McGonagall says. ”Now go and wake your students, Horace…”

 

Harry doesn’t stay to watch Slughorn splutter, but follows McGonagall as she strides down the corridor with her wand raised, casting protective spells as sh goes. 

 

” _Piertotum!_ — oh, for heaven’s sake, Filch, not _now_ —” she says exasperated as the caretaker comes hobbling round the corner, wheezing about students being out of bed. ”They’re _supposed_ to be out of bed, you idiot! Now go and do something constructive, will you? Go find Peeves!”

 

”P-Peeves?” Filch stammers incredulously. 

 

”Yes, _Peeves,_ you fool, _Peeves!_ Haven’t you been complaining about him for a quarter of a century? Go and fetch him at once!”

 

Filch glares in disgust, but hobbles away obediantly, muttering under his breath. McGonagall sniffs and then raises her wand again, ”And now — _piertum locomotor!_ ”

 

Suddenly, every single suit of armour standing along the corridor springs to life, brandishing their axes and flails. Echoing crashes from the floor above and below tells Harry that all the suits of armour in the castle has been similarly awoken. 

 

”Hogwarts is threatened!” McGonagall cries. ”Man the boundaries! Protect us! Do your duty to our school!”

 

Harry sees statues and suits of armour make their way down a nearby staircase. 

 

”Now, Potter”, McGonagall says swiftly. ”You and Miss Lovegood had better collect your friends and direct them to the Great Hall — I shall fetch the rest of the Gryffindors.”

 

When they return to the Room of Requirement, Harry stumbles back in shock; the room is packed. He stares wildly at all the new faces: Kingsley and Lupin stand up as soon as they lay eyes on him, Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet stop talking amongst themselves and turn to look at him excitedly, Bill and Fleur as well as Mr and Mrs Weasley make their way through the crowd to hug him. 

 

”Harry, what’s happening?” Lupin says seriously as Mrs Weasley is crushing him in her arms. 

 

”Voldemort’s on the way here”, Harry gasps and gingerly squirms out of her bear hug. ”They’re barricading the school — but how did you know?”

 

”We sent the message to the rest of Dumbledore’s Army”, Fred tells him. ”You couldn’t expect everyone to to miss all he fun, Harry!”

 

”And the DA let the Order of the Phoenix know, and it all kind of snowballed”, George adds. ”So what’s first, Harry? What’s going on?”

 

”Well, we’re evacuating the younger students, but everyone’s meeting in the Great Hall to get organised — we’re fighting!”

 

There’s a roar of excitement as most of the crowd brandish their wands and run past him out of the Room. Harry stumbles back, looking over the faces of those remaining, searching for Ron and Hermione but they don’t seem to be in the Room. 

 

Mrs Weasley is arguing with a teary-eyed Ginny, telling her she is too young and needs to go back to the Burrow.

 

”I want to fight!” the sixteen-year-old girl yells. ”My whole family is here, I can’t just sit back and — and — wait —!”

 

”You’re under-age!” Mrs Weasley shouts back. ”I won’t permit it! The boys, yes, but you, you’ve got to go home!”

 

”I’m in Dumbledore’s Army —!”

 

”— a teenager’s group —!”

 

”A teenager’s group that’s about to take him on, which no-one else has dared to do!” Fred interjects. 

 

Mrs Weasley rounds on him immediately, her teary eyes flashing dangerously, ”She is _sixteen_! She is not old enough! What the two of you were thinking, bringing her along —!”

 

Fred and George seem to deflate slightly at that, looking more ashamed of themselves than Harry has ever seen them. 

 

A scuffling sound and a great thump of someone clambering through the passageway to the Hog’s Head and falling clumsily to the floor interrupts the argument and everyone turns around to stare as the young man pulls himself up and righten his horn-rimmed glasses and gasps, ”Am I too late? Has it started? I only just found out, so I — I —”

 

Percy splutters into silence, staring in shock at the rest of his family, clearly not prepared to come face to face with the entire Weasley clan so suddenly. A moment’s shocked silence trickles past, then Fleur turns to Lupin suddenly, ”So — ’ow is little Teddy?”

 

Lupin blinks at her in confusion, but when the silence between the Weasleys seem to solidify, he blinks rapidly and says loudly, ”I — oh! — yes, he’s fine! Tonks is with him now, at her mother’s!”

 

Percy and the other Weasleys keep staring at each other. 

 

”Here, I’ve got a picture!” Lupin shouts and pulls a photograph of a blue-haired toddler out of his wallet and shows it to Fleur and Harry. 

 

”I was a fool!” Percy wails suddenly and Lupin nearly drops the photograph. ”I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a — a — ”

 

”Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron”, Fred says swiftly. 

 

Percy blinks, taken aback — then swallows thickly and nods, ”Yes. Yes, I was.”

 

”Well”, George says simply. ”You can’t say fairer than that!”

 

He walks up to Percy and claps him on the shoulder. Percy seems even more taken aback by this. He gingerly reaches out and puts a hesitant arm around his brother, who throws his twin a glance that Harry can’t really interpret before returning the embrace. Fred joins them and puts his arm around them both in a big, three-way hug. 

 

A strangled sob rings out in the silence and the three of them immediately spring apart again. Mrs Weasley, who is now crying openly, elbows the twins out of the way and envelop Percy in a crushing hug. Percy smiles shakily and returns it, eyeing Mr Weasley warily over his mother’s shoulder, ”I’m sorry, Dad…”

 

Mr Weasley seems to shake himself out of his stunned state and swiftly walks over and hugs his son as well. 

 

”What made you finally see sense, Perce?” George asks curiously. 

 

Percy tells them that he’s been wanting to leave the Ministry for ages, but it’s been difficult with so-called traitors being imprisoned every day, but that he finally got in touch with Aberforth and that it was him that tipped him off ten minutes ago that Hogwarts was about to make a fight of it, ”So here I am!”

 

”Well, we do look to our Prefects to take the lead at times such as these”, George says in a good imitation of Percy’s usual pompous manner and grins good-naturedly at him. ”Now, let’s get upstairs and fight, before all the good Death Eaters are taken!”

 

As most of the Weasley clan leave, Harry turns to Ginny and asks her where Ron and Hermione have got to. 

 

”They said something about a bathroom, not long after you left”, she says and shrugs. 

 

Harry frowns; _a bathroom?_ He walks out of the Room of Requirement and enters the nearest bathroom, but it’s empty.  

 

His scar sears in pain again and the mint green tiles swim before his eyes before vanishing completely; instead he’s looking through familiar wrought-iron gates with winged boars on pillars on either side, the dark silhouette of Hogwarts clearly visible against the starry sky. Nagini is a comforting weight on his shoulders, and in his heart lies a similar weight that is just as comforting: the cold determination that usually preceeds murder…

 

Harry forces his mind closed once more; he is beyond fright now, beyond panic — Severus is gone, so he needs to find the only other people who know about his quest, Ron and Hermione, that’s all he can think about — _I need to find Ron and Hermione…_

 

He follows the others to the Great Hall; its enchanted ceiling unusually dark and peppered with stars, yet every seat along the four House tables were occupied by dishevelled students, some wearing travelling cloaks already while others were still dressed in their sleep wear… Harry ignores the stares and whispers as he makes his way further into the Hall, tuning out McGonagall’s instructions as he scans the Gryffindor table for any hint of red hair or frizzy brown… 

 

”—evacuation will be overseen by Mr Filch and Madam Pomfrey”, McGonagall says. ”Prefects, when I give the word, you will organise your house and take them to the evacuation point.”

 

”And what if we want to stay and fight?” Ernia Macmillan shouts, standing up from his seat at the Hufflepuff table and there is a smattering of applause and murmured approval around him.

 

”If you are of age, you may stay”, McGonagall says. ”We have already placed protection around the castle, but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it, so I must ask you to move quickly and calmly, and do as your Prefects —”

 

Her final words are drowned as another, colder disembodied voice suddenly echoes throughout the Hall: ”I know you are preparing to fight…” 

 

There are terrified screams amongst the students, some of which cling to each other for comfort, others who pull their wands out of their pockets with shaky but determined hands as they look around for the soource of the voice. 

 

”Your efforts are futile”, Voldemort continues calmly. ”You cannot fight me. But I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teacher sof Hogwarts, and I do not wish to spill magical blood… Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you shall be rewarded… You have until midnight.”

 

The silence seems to thicken and vibrate as the voice fades. Every head in the Great Hall turns to pin Harry with their startled eyes. Then a figure risis slowly from the Slytherin table and Harry immediately recognises Pansy Parkinson, although she looks a lot paler and unkempt than the last time he saw her, and he steels himself as she lifts a trembling arm and points a finger at him, ”But he’s there! Potter is _right there!_ Someone grab him —!”

 

Before Harry can so much as open his mouth to speak, there is an uproar of noise and movement all around him as the entire Gryffindor side of the Great Hall stands as one person and faces — not Harry, but Pansy — and a split-second later, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw follows suit, pointing their wands at a stricken Pansy Parkinson who looks around her in terror. 

 

”Thank you, Miss Parkinson”, McGonagall says curtly. ”You may leave the Hall first with Mr Filch, and then the rest of you house may follow —”

 

There’s a disjointed smattering of applause and cheer from the other houses as the Slytherins troop out of the Hall after Mr Filch and Mrs Norris. 

 

”Ravenclaw, follow on!” McGonagall instructs in a loud voice. 

 

Harry hurries over to where the Weasleys are sat at the Gryffindor table and asks them again if they’ve seen Ron or Hermione. 

 

”Haven’t you found —?” Mr Weasley says, starting to look worried, but breaks off as Kingsley approaches to pass on the battle plan agreed upon. 

 

”Potter!” McGonagall says, startling Harry and he meets her halfway as she comes striding down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. ”Aren’t you supposed to be looking for something?”

 

”Right — yeah —” he mumbles and turns around and runs out of the Hall again, his mind whirring desperately, trying to think, but he can’t seem to focus — _where are Ron and Hermione?_ — he gets the Map out and looks for them, but they seem to have vanished from the castle; _so maybe they’re back in the Room of Requirement?_ — he taps the Map and tucks in back into his pocket… _Think,_ he tells himself. 

 

 _Voldemort thought I’d go to Ravenclaw Tower,_ he realises suddenly — He’d stationed Alecto Carrow in Ravenclaw Tower in case Harry would show up, in Ravenclaw Tower, nowhere else in the castle — and there it is: a solid fact, a place to start! — Harry feels his heart leap; _okay, so we’re definitely on the right track… but what object of Ravenclaw could it be, if not the diadem? or, if it is the diadem, how is it possible for Voldemort, a Slytherin, to have found it when generations of Ravenclaws have failed to aquire it?_

 

And who can help Harry find it now, if no-one in living memory has seen it?

 

 _Living memory,_ he thinks. _Oh that’s it!_

 

Harry turns on his heel and starts running back down the corridor, shouldering past the crowd of students marching towards the Room of Requirement to be evacuated, he hurtles round a corner, he spots the familiar pearly-white shape of Sir Nicholas —

 

”Nick! NICK! I need to talk to you —!” he bellows without slowing down his pace. 

 

Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, stops soaring and stays hovering in mid-air until Harry thunders to a stop right underneath him. 

 

”Harry! My dear boy!” he greets jovially. 

 

”Nick, you’ve got to help me… Who’s the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?”

 

Nearly Headless Nick pulls back in surprise and splutters a little, eemingly offended, ”Well, The Grey Lady, of course! But if it is ghostly services you require —”

 

”No, it’s got to be her”, Harry interrupts. ”Please, do you know where she is?”

 

”Well, that’s her over there, Harry — the young woman with the long hair, see —?” 

 

Harry whirls around and spots a tall, slender ghost who — sensing Harry’s attention — raises her eyebrows delicately and then proceeds to drift away through the nearest solid wall. Harry swears silently to himself and runs after her. 

 

”Hey — wait — come back!” he yells as he tears through the doorway to the corridor into which she disappeared. 

 

He catches sight of her in the opposite end of the corridor, where she floats in mid-air for a moment, eyeing him suspisciously and as he comes to a thundering halt next to her, catching his breath noisily, she seems to draw herself up and for a moment she reminds him of Narcissa Malfoy, except more beautiful with her waist-long hair and soft features… 

 

”Please”, he wheezes, and she seems to solidify slightly. ”You’re the Grey Lady? The ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?”

 

”That is correct”, she replies coolly. 

 

”Please, I need some help. I need to know anything you can tell me about the lost diadem.”

 

A cold smile curves the ghost’s lips, and it definitely does not reach her heavy-lidded eyes, ”I am afraid I cannot help you…”

 

”WAIT!” he screams as she turns to leave. ”This is urgent! If that diadem is at Hogwarts, I’ve got to find it and fast!”

 

”You are hardly the first student to badger me about the diadem”, she says.

 

”This isn’t about trying to get better marks, or — or — glory! It’s about defeating Voldemort! If you care about that —!”

 

”Well, of course I — how dare you even suggest —!” she splutters, clearly ruffled for the first time. 

 

” _Good!_ ” he cuts her off. ”So, help me!”

 

”I — It’s not — my mother’s diadem —”

 

”Your _mother’s_?” Harry says in surprise. 

 

”When I lived, I was Helena Ravenclaw”, she says stiffly. ”And while the diadem bestows wisdom, I hardly think it will assist you in your quest to defeat the wizard who calls himself Lord —”

 

”I don’t want to _wear it!_ ” Harry says impatiently. ”I want ot destroy it!”

 

The ghost gazes at him silently for a moment that seems to stretch out and grow into minutes, hours; but Harry doesn’t say anything else, he barely dares to breathe, certain that the slightest movement or noise will break the resolve that he can see building in the dead woman’s eyes…

 

Finally, she draws herself up, as if taking a deep breath, and she starts telling him her story; Harry merely blinks, mind racing to keep up with her tale, as she confesses to stealing her mother’s diadem and running away… and the Baron — the Bloody Baron, Slytherin House’s ghost — tracked her down  and when she refused to come back to Hogwarts with him, in a fit of rage, he stabbed her to death… 

 

At this point, The Grey Lady lifts aside the cloak she’s wearing to reveal a dark stab wound in her pearly-white chest, ”And overcome with remorse over what he’d done, the Baron turned his weapon upon himself… All these centuries later, he still wears his chains as an act of penitence — as well he should —!”

 

”And… and the diadem?” Harry asks carefully. 

 

”It remained where I’d hidden it when I heard the Baron blundering through the forest towards me, concealed inside a hollow tree.”

 

”A hollow tree? What tree? Where was this?”

 

”A forest in Albania”, she intones, and Harry feels a sudden jolt; _Albania!_

 

_How many times haven’t he and Hermione, and later Ron as well, discussed whether or not they ought to travel to Albania —!_

 

But then, with another jolt, Harry realises that that would have been a wasted trip, because someone else had already made it, years earlier… 

 

”You’ve already told someone this story, haven’t you?” he asks the ghost. ”Another student?”

 

She closes her eyes and a look of pain settles on her beautiful face. 

 

”I had no idea… He was… flattering. He seemed to — to understand, to sympathise…”

 

 _Yes,_ Harry thinks grimly. T _om Riddle had indeed been a charming young man, and handsome too…_

 

Harry can easily imagine him flattering the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw, manipulating her into giving away her most guarded secret… _And once he got his hands on the diadem, he wouldn’t have left it in the tree, no, he’d have brought it back to Hogwarts_ —

 

”—the night he came and asked Dumbledore for a job!” Harry exclaims aloud, finishing his thought. 

 

”Excuse me?” the ghost says. 

 

”He hid the diadem in the castle, that time he came to apply for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts, either on his way up to or down from Dumbledore’s office! _It all makes sense!_ — Oh, _thank you,_ thanks a lot for your help —!” Harry shouts over his shoulder as he starts running back the same way he came. 

 

 

*

 

Harry runs aimlessly, as his thoughts tumble around inside his head — and Voldemort’s thoughts swirl around the outskirts — but as he thunder to a stop next to the painting of the ballet-dancing trolls, the answer comes to him suddenly like a slap in the face; _The Room of Requirement!_

 

”Harry —!” 

 

He whirls around and is met by the sight of Ron and Hermione sprinting up the corridor, arms full of weird, yellowy objects and grinning like maniacs. 

 

”Where the hell have _you_ been —?” he hollers angrily. 

 

”Chamber of Secrets!” Ron says simply as they come to a halt in front of him. 

 

”Chamber of — _what_ —?”

 

”It was all Ron’s idea”, Hermione says breathlessly, beaming at Ron. ”There we were, after you left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn’t got rid of the cup! And then he thought of it! The basilisk!”

 

Harry looks down at the yellowy things and realises with a _pang_ that they’re fangs, _basilisk fangs…_

 

”But — how did you get in?” he says, looking up at Ron in amazement. ”You need to speak Parseltongue!”

 

”He did!” Hermione says excitedly. ”Show him, Ron!”

 

Ron makes a horrible, strangled hissing noise and Harry flinches; _is that what I sound I like?_

 

”It’s what you did to open the locket — I heard you”, Ron says a little sheepishly. ”I had to have a few goes to get it right, but we got there in the end!”

 

”Brilliant”, Harry says, feeling a swell of pride and affection for his best friend. ”That’s brilliant, Ron!”

 

”He was amazing”, Hermione agrees, and Ron’s face goes beet red immediately. 

 

”So we’re another Horcrux down”, he says in a loud voice, too casual to be casual, and pulls a mangled cup from his pocket. ”Hermoine destroyed it… and what’s new with you?”

 

”I know what the diadem looks like, and I know where it’s hidden!” Harry says quickly. ”He hid it where I hid the Potions book, where people have been hiding stuff for centuries, and I’ve seen it, I’ve just realised, I’ve even touched it — _Come on!_ ”

 

They enter the Room of Requirement, now empty save for Ginny who have been forbidden to partake in the battle, and two other women: Tonks and an elderly witch wearing a moth-eaten hat with a stuffed vulture on top of it — 

 

”Ah, Potter”, Neville’s grandmother says immediately. ”You can tell us what’s going on!”

 

”Are there still people in the passage to the Hog’s Head?” Harry asks, knowing the Room won’t transform until it’s been completely emptied. 

 

”I was the last to come through”, Mrs Longbottom says. ”And I sealed it — I think it’s unwise to leave it open now Aberforth has left the pub. Have you seen my grandson?”

 

”He’s fighting”, Harry says. 

 

”Naturally”, she says and seems to swell with pride. ”Well, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and assist him…”

 

With surprising speed for her age, Mrs Longbottom strides across the Room and disappears out the door. Tonks follows her after Harry has confirmed Lupin’s whereabouts. Harry turns to Ginny who looks hopefully at him. 

 

”Ginny, we need you to leave the Room as well. Just for a bit, then you can come back, all right?”

 

An unreadable expression passes over the girl’s face, but then she nods and runs out of the room with an air of someone who has been set free, ” _Then you have to come back!_ ” Harry yells after her, imagining Mrs Weasley’s reaction if she were to find out that Harry allowed her little girl to leave the safety of the Room and join in the fighting. 

 

”Hang on, we’ve forgotten someone!” Ron says suddenly. ”The house-elves! They’ll all be in the kitchens still, won’t they?”

 

”And what, you think we should get them all fighting for us —?” Harry asks. 

 

”No”, Ron says seriously. ”I mean we should tell them to get out. We don’t want any more Dobbys, do we? We can’t order them to die for us —”

 

There is a sudden clatter as all the Basilisk fangs in Hermione’s arms fall to the ground and before either boy has had a chance to react, she has flung her arms around Ron and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron dropped his own Basilisk fangs and responded enthusiastically. 

 

”Really?” Harry says weakly. ”Now?”

 

Ron and Hermione doesn’t seem to hear him. They clutch at each other desperately and deepen their kiss. Harry winces when a particularly loud slurping noise sounds. 

 

”Oi, there’s a war going on here!” he says a little louder. 

 

Ron and Hermione spring apart with another slurp and he grimaces wrily as Ron beams at him, ”I know, mate, so it’s now or never, innit?”

 

”Yeah, well, d’you think you could at least hold it in until we’ve got the diadem?” 

 

”Yeah — right — sorry”, Ron mumbles. 

 

Ron and Hermione gather up the Basilisk fangs again, both rather pink in the face but still smiling shyly at each other. Harry ushers them impatiently out of the Room, then waits for the doors to melt into the wall and disappearing before he starts running along the length of the wall, thinking furiously, _”I need the place where everything is hidden”_

 

On the third run the doors re-materialise in front of their eyes and Harry wrenches them open again. 

 

The Room is now the size of a giant cathedral, with the appearance of a small city with its towering walls built of thousands of hidden objects accumulated over the centuries. 

 

Harry starts walking down an aisle to his right, spotting the stuffed troll and the Vanishing Cabinet that Malfoy had been mending last year… Then he hesitates, looking up and down the aisles that branch out on either side of the Cabinet, trying to remember where he’d gone next…

 

” _Accio diadem_ ”, Hermione says hopefully, but nothing happens. 

 

”Okay”, Harry says, thinking fast. ”Okay — let’s just spread out, it should be here somewhere — just look for a stone bust of an old man wearing a wig and a tiara, all right? It’s on top of a cupboard —”

 

They speed off in different, adjacent aisles; Harry scans the junk on either side of him, _somewhere here… somewhere…_ He moves deeper and deeper into the Room, trying to spot anything that he remembers from last time…

 

 _There!_ Harry’s breath hitches as he finally spots it: the bust of the warlock still wearing the dusty old wig that Hary had placed on it a year ago, and on top of the wig, _the diadem…_

 

Harry jogs the remaining few steps until he’s standing right next to the cupboard and he’s stretching out his arm, reaching for the diadem, when a voice behind him suddenly says, ”Hold it, Potter!”

 

Harry wheels around. Crabbe and Goyle are standing shoulder to shoulder right behind him, wands pointing at Harry’s chest, and through a small space between their jeering faces, he can catch a glimpse of Draco Malfoy’s pale, drawn face staring solemnly at him and pointing a wand as well. 

 

”That’s my wand you’re holding, Potter”, Malfoy says quietly.

 

Harry’s heart leaps into his throat as he stares at the Slytherin boys. _No, this isn’t happening… this is_ not _happening,_ he thinks wildly. To have come this close, only to be thwarted by _Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle…_

 

”Finder’s keepers”, he tells Malfoy, tightening his grip on the hawthorn wand and he’s glad to hear his voice is steady. ”Who’s lent you that one then?”

 

”My mother”, Malfoy murmurs. 

 

Harry laughs, but it’s a hollow sound — he can only hope that Ron or Hermione will hear him. 

 

”So how come you lot aren’t with Voldemort?” he asks, stalling for time. 

 

”We’re gonna be rewarded”, Crabbe says with a slightly deranged grin, and Harry is struck by the softness of his voice, realising he’s hardly heard the boy speak before. ”We hung back, see. Decided not to go. Decided to bring you to ’im.”

 

”Good plan”, Harry says, mouth going dry and heart hammering somewhere in his throat. ”So had did you get in here?”

 

”I virtually lived in the Room of Hidden Things last year”, Malfoy says and Harry catches a haunted look flit across his face. ”I know how to get in…”

 

”Right”, he says. 

 

”We was hidin’ in the corridor outside”, Goyle grunts. ”We can do Diss-lusion Charms now. And then you turned up right in front of us and said you were looking for a die-dum! What’s a die-dum anyway?”

 

”Harry?” Ron’s voice floats over the nearest wall of stacked objects and Harry’s heart skips a beat. ”Are you talking to someone?”

 

Crabbe whips his wand around and points it to the wall, ” _Descendo!_ ”

 

The wall begins to totter, then crumbles into the next aisle and Harry can hear a scream, ”RON!” he bellows, then pointing his own wand at the wall he quickly shouts a _Finite_ and the remaining furniture and other objects steady immediately. 

 

”No!” Malfoy shouts suddenly, and Harry whirls back around to see him grabbing Crabbe’s wand arm, trying to force it back down. ”If you wreck the room, you might bury this diadem thing!”

 

”Who cares?” Crabbe snarls and shoves Malfoy hard in the chest, and the blonde staggers back a step looking shocked that one of his cronies would talk back to him, and worse, lay a hand on him. ”It’s Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about this stupid die-dum!”

 

”Potter came in here to get it”, Malfoy tries to explain with ill-concealed impatience, glancing warily at the bigger boy’s hands as if worried he might get another shove. ”So that must mean —”

 

” _’That must mean’_ ”, Crabbe mimicks. ”Who cares what you think, anyway! I don’t take orders no more, _Draco_ — you and your dad are both finished!”

 

”Harry!” Ron shouts from the other side of the wall. ”What’s going on —?”

 

Crabbe starts to snicker, then chokes as Harry makes a lunge for the stone bust, ”No! _Crucio_ —!”

 

The curse narrowly misses Harry and hits the stone bust instead; the diadem soars upwards and then drops out of sight. 

 

”STOP!” Malfoy shouts shrilly. ”The Dark Lord wants him _alive_ —!”

 

”So? I’m not killing him, am I”, Crabbe roars back, throwing off Malfoy’s restraining arm for a second time and wheels around to punch him, but Malfoy quickly scrambles backwards, out of reach. ”But if I can, I will — The Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, so what’s the diff —”

 

Crabbe is suddenly cut off as Malfoy grabs his shirt front and pulls with all his strentgh, sending them both crashing to the floor and thus avoiding the jet of scarlet light aimed at Crabbe’s head, Harry wheels around and sees Hermione hurtle around the corner, wand held aloft, another Stunning Spell on the tip of her tongue —

 

”It’s the Mudblood!” Crabbe roars furiously, scrambling away from Malfoy and getting up on his feet again. ” _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

 

Hermione dives aside and the Killing Curse misses her, Harry stares at Crabbe in shock and fury; _he actually tried to kill her!_ — Malfoy who is still sprawled on the floor at Crabbe’s feet is staring up at the other boy with a similar look of shock on his face, like he can’t believe his friend had just cast the Killing Curse and hadn’t even hesitated — but Harry barely notices, his entire focus is on Crabbe, who is already opening his mouth to cast another curse…

 

Harry sends a Stunning Spell at him, but he lurches out of the way, kicking Malfoy and accidentally sending his wand flying out of his hand; it rolls out of sight and Malfoy looks torn between going after it or his incensed friend —

 

”Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!” he yells hysterically as both Crabbe and Goyle aim their wands at Harry’s heart, and throws himself at them.

 

” _Expelliarmus!_ ” Harry shouts and Goyle’s wand goes flying out of his hand. 

 

Malfoy dives to the floor again and cowers behind a three-legged wardrobe as Hermione sends another Stunning Spell at them, that hits Goyle instead and the boy crashes to the floor with a crunching sound. Malfoy reaches out and clasps the boy’s robes and pulls desperately, trying to drag him out of harm’s way. 

 

Ron comes pelting round the corner and sends a full Body-Binding Curse at Crabbe that narrowly misses him. He who wheels around, red in the face and spitting in anger as he snarls ” _Avada Kedavra!_ ” for a second time, but Ron leaps out of sight and the jet of green light hits an old chest of drawers instead. 

 

”HARRY!” Hermione screams. 

 

A roaring, billowing noise behind him is the only warning he gets before both Ron and Crabbe come running towards him, ”Like it hot, scum?” Crabbe shouts triumphantly. 

 

But his triumph is short-lived, because he doesn’t seem to have any control over what he’s done; gigantic flames are pursuing them like a living thing, licking up the sides of the junk walls, leaving them crumbling to soot… 

 

” _Aguamenti!_ ” Harry yells desperately, but to his horror the jet of water bursting out of his wand evaporates immediately. 

 

”RUN!”

 

Malfoy has managed to get both arms around Goyle’s massive chest and is dragging him along, looking around wildly, his eyes desperate and tearing up; Crabbe has abandoned them both and is throwing terrified looks over his shoulder at the massive flames as she sprints ahead of them all; Harry, Ron and Hermione run as hard as they can in his wake, feeling the heat from the flames on their backs —

 

 _This is no ordinary fire,_ Harry realises, throwing a look over his shoulder and seeing the flames mutate into firey beings: serpents, chimaeras and dragons, all of them in pursuit… They finally lose sight of Crabbe, and come to a thundering stop; the fiery monsters have now encircled them from all sides and are steadily closing in on them — 

 

”What can we do? _What can we do?_ ” Hermione yells. 

 

Harry spots a couple of old broomsticks still untouched by the fire and immediately seizes them, throwing one to Ron, ” _Here!_ ”

 

Hermione clambers onto Ron’s broom behind him and latches on to him. They kick off the ground and soar into the air, steering away from the the snapping jaws of a flaming raptor that lunges at them; Harry scans the ground, looking for any sign of Malfoy, Crabbe or Goyle, swopping as close to the fire as he dares… 

 

”Harry, let’s get out of here!” Ron bellows. 

 

But Harry has heard something else as well through the roar of the fire; a pitiful, human scream… _Malfoy,_ he thinks with a jolt. 

 

”It’s — too — dangerous —!” Ron yells, but Harry has already turned and is speeding through the room, scanning the fire and smoke for any sign of life… 

 

And then he sees them: Malfoy and the still stunned Goyle, perched on a very fragile-looking tower of charred desks… How Malfoy had managed to drag the unconscious lump of Goyle who was twice his own size, Harry has no idea, but he feels a twinge of — something — definitely not affection, but _something…_ Despite obviously having fallen out with his cronies, Malfoy had risked his own life to save his old friend. 

 

 _So he can’t be entirely evil,_ Harry thinks wryly as he dives towards them. Malfoy’s eyes flash hopefully as he sees him and he raises his arm… But it’s no good: Goyle is way too heavy, and Malfoy’s hand that’s covered in sweat immediately slips out of Harry’s —

 

”IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I’LL KILL YOU, HARRY!” roars Ron suddenly, barely avoiding a flaming Chimaera bearing down on them as Hermione drags Goyle onto their broom, then zoom out of sight, heading for the general direction of the door —

 

Malfoy clambers up behind Harry and wraps his arms tightly around Harry’s waist, screaming in his ear, ”The door, get to the door, the door!”

 

Harry leans forward and speeds up, following Ron, Hermione and Goyle through the billowing black smoke, barely able to breathe; all around them, the few remaining unburned objects are thrown into the air by the fiery creatures like some sort of celebration, unflammable objects like cups and shields and jewellry, _and an old, discoloured tiara —_

 

” _What are you doing, what are you doing?_ ” Malfoy screams. ” _The door is_ that _way!_ ”

 

Harry swerves and dives; the diadem seems to fall in slow-motion, the fire making it glint golden, and for a split-second, Harry can almost trick himself into believing he’s back on the Quidditch pitch, diving after the Snitch… He catches the diadem around his wrist and swerves again… Malfoy is squeezing him so tightly it hurts and is still screaming, although he doesn’t seem to be screaming words anymore… 

 

Harry dives to the side as a serpent lunges for them, then soars upwards again, heading for the diretion of the door, hoping feverishly that it’s still open —

 

Then he sees it, through the thick billowing black smoke, he sees a rectangular patch on the wall and steers the broom right at it — cool, clean air washes over him — in the next moment, he crashes into the wall opposite and Malfoy’s arms fall away from him as they both crumble to the floor; Harry heaves a deep breath… Next to him, Malfoy lies gasping and coughing, curled up miserably… Harry ignores him and sits up, staring at the stretch of wall where the Room of Requirement has once again vanished. 

 

Ron and Hermione are also sitting on the floor panting, next to them lies the still unconscious Goyle.

 

”C- Crabbe”, Malfoy chokes out, looking up from the floor for the first time. ”C- Crabbe…”

 

”He’s dead”, Ron says harshly. 


	26. Casualties of war

 

Ron’s face is darkened by soot and the tips of his red hair is singed, lending a certain dramatic effect to the glare on his face as he stares Malfoy down. The blonde’s face pales further, but he says nothing. Harry glances at him through the corner of his eye and notices the way he seems to inch closer to Goyle’s unconscious body as if seeking comfort from a familiar source, and Harry almost feels bad for him… _almost_ … 

 

Then he remembers how Crabbe had cast the Killing Curse at both Hermione and Ron, before summoning the demonic fire creatures that almost killed them all, and his sympathy cools down considerably. 

 

”Harry, what’s that on your arm?” Hermione says, flicking her own singed hair out of her blackened face and gingerly gets to her feet. 

 

Harry looks down at the diadem still hanging from his wrist and holds it up; it’s blackened with soot as well, but if he looks closely he can still make out the words etched into the metal: _Wit beyond measure, is man’s greatest treasure_

 

Suddenly a black, thick substance starts leaking from the diadem, as though it’s bleeding, and with a violent shudder the whole thing breaks apart in his hand — Harry hears a faint howling, but he’s not sure if it comes from the diadem itself or from his connection to Voldemort’s mind…

 

”It must have been fiendfyre”, Hermione gasps, staring at the pieces of the diadem. ”Cursed fire — it’s one of the substances that destroys Horcruxes — but I would never have dared use it, it’s too dangerous… How did Crabbe know how to —?”

 

”Learned it from the Carrows, maybe?” Harry says and shrugs uncomfortably, aware of Malfoy listening in on their conversation. 

 

”Shame he wasn’t concentrating enough to learn how to stop it”, Ron says bitterly. 

 

”But don’t you realise —?” Hermione says. ”This means — if we can just get the snake —”

 

Harry gives her a warning look and gives a minute shake of his head. Voldemort already knows what they’re up to, destroying his Horcruxes, but there’s no reason why they should reveal their entire strategy to Draco Malfoy… Hermione glances at the blonde and then nods quickly. 

 

”We should get going”, she suggests. 

 

Just then, the unmistakable noises of duelling filters into the temporary quiet of the corridor, and Harry realises with a sickening jolt that the battle is going on all around them… and not only that, but Death Eaters has managed to penetrate the Protective Enchantments and entered the castle. 

 

Fred and Percy back into view from around the nearest corner, both duelling masked and hooded men; Harry raises his wand again and runs towards them to help, Ron and Hermione following closely. Jets of light are flying everywhere, bouncing off the walls and ceiling.

 

The Death Eater duelling Percy backs off when Harry, Ron and Hermione thunder onto the scene, but stumbles and trips, causing his hood to slip off, revealing his streaked hair… 

 

”Hello, Minister!” Percy exclaims and sends a jinx right at Thickenesse who promptly drops his wand. ”Did I mention I’m resigning?”

 

”You’re joking, Perce!” Fred shouts as the Death Eater he’s been duelling with keels over, and he turns to look at his older brother in delight. ”You actually _are_ joking! Wow, Percy, I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were —”

 

”NO —!” Percy howls suddenly, startling them all. 

 

Harry sees the glint of laughter in Percy’s eyes flare into a spark of horror and stares transfixed as the older Weasley throws himself at Fred who, in a moment when it had seemed as though both Death Eaters had been rendered harmless, let his guard down to turn to Percy and thus missed the slow but determined wand movement of the crumpled Death Eater at his feet; Fred’s eyes widen in alarm as Percy crashes into him — the jet of green light soaring towards them — and the both of them flies through the air and hits the stone wall with crunch before sprawling together on the floor …

 

”No — no — no —!” Percy babbles hysterically as he scrambles to his knees and starts shaking the lifeless form of his brother. ”No! Fred! _No_ —!”

 

Harry’s knees buckle under him and he sinks to the floor, watching in mute terror as Percy collapses on top of Fred with tears streaming down his face… _No_ , he thinks. _No, he can’t be dead, not Fred… not Fred…_

 

Ron staggers over in a daze and kneels down next to his brothers, his hands reaching out as if acting on their own accord and pawing at Fred’s face and chest as if to convince himself that he’s real and not some horrible vision… Harry is reminded of Mrs Weasley’s boggart… His stomach churns and he sends a Stunning Spell towards the Death Eater automatically when he stirs again, but he barely even sees him…

 

Hermione is standing a few feet away, staring at the Weasley brothers with her shaking hands pressed to her mouth. She glides over the stone floor as if in a trance and kneels down next to Ron who has now started shaking from the strain of not breaking down. She lets her hands slide down his arms to cover his, clearly attempting to offer comfort and at the same time gently guide his fists away from Fred’s neck where they’d been kneading the flesh almost aggressively… 

 

Harry can tell immediately when Hermione discovers it — her entire body goes rigid and she frowns at Fred’s bruised neck — and shoving Ron aside non-too-gently, she replaces his hands on Fred’s neck with her own, eyes flickering restlessly as she concentrates… 

 

When she lets out a surprised gasp, Harry’s heart skips a beat and he stumbles over to his friends. 

 

”He’s got a pulse!” Hermione exclaims. ” _He’s got a pulse!_ ”

 

”Wh— what —?” Percy hiccoughs and blinks at her through his swollen eyes. ”A p- pulse —?”

 

” _Yes!_ ” she hisses excitedly. ”The Curse must have missed him, after all. He’s still alive, just unconscious!”

 

”What?” Percy and Ron say together.

 

”He must have just hit his head”, Hermione says and beams at them. ”He’s going to be all right!”

 

Percy lets out a strangled sob and throws himself over Fred again, hugging him close as he continues to cry, but now from relief rather than grief. 

 

Suddenly the air explodes around them. Harry is knocked off his feet and feels himself flying through the air. He grips the wand tightly in his hand, his only means of defense. He hears Hermione and Malfoy scream in unison as the debris from the blasted-apart wall rains down on them. Harry curls up in mid-air and lands hard on the stone floor. Scrambling again to his feet, vaguely aware of a sharp pain in his side and his ankle snapping painfully under his weight, he stares at the enormous hole in the wall through which a gigantic spider is crawling. 

 

Ron and Harry shout together, their spells colliding and blasting the monster backwards through the hole again. But Harry’s relief is short-lived, as he remembers that there is literally hundreds of more Acromantula where the first one came from, having narrowly escaped them alive in his Second Year. 

 

”Let’s go!” he yells and seizes Fred by the legs. ”NOW!”

 

Percy realises what he’s trying to do and hurriedly links his arms around Fred’s torso and helps Harry carry his unconscious body into a nische where they leave him under a Disillusionment Charm until they can come back for him. 

 

Percy wipes the tears and sweat from his face with a shaking hand, then raises his wand and glares darkly into the distance, ” _Rookwood_!” 

 

Before Harry has had a chance to react, Percy has shoves him aside and is pelting down the corridor in pursuit of the Death Eater who had come so close to claiming his brother’s life, ”ROOKWOOD!” 

 

”Harry!” Hermione screams. ” _Let’s go!_ ”

 

Harry wheels around and spots his two friends at the top of a marble staircase at the other end of the collapsed corridor. At first it looks as though they’re locked in a heated embrace again, but as Harry approaches them he sees that Hermione has got her arms around Ron in order to restrain him and that the redhead is struggling against her, his face red and his eyes dark, ”Let — _go_ — I wanna kill Death Eaters —!”

 

”Listen, Ron — LISTEN!” Hermione exclaims. ”We’re the only ones that can end it, please, Ron, we can’t lose focus now — we have to kill the snake —!”

 

Harry knows how Ron must be feeling, knowing that his entire family is fighting to the death all around them and not being able to jump in and aid them. Harry feels on edge himself after everything that’s just happened, his limbs twitchy with residual adrenaline and his mind whirring faster than ever.

 

”We _will_ fight!” Hermione says. ”We’ll have to — to reach the snake — but let’s not lose sight now of what we’re supposed to be doing, we’re _so close!_ ”

 

Ron stops struggling against her, but remains rigid with tension in her arms, eyes still fixed on a point in the distance where Rookwood had disappeared, Percy hot on his heels. 

 

”Harry”, Hermione snaps. ”You’ll have to find out where Voldemort is, because he’ll have the snake with him, won’t he? So, do it — look inside him!”

 

Maybe it’s because his scar has been burning for hours, Voldemort’s mind pulling at his own and weighing on the connection between them, or maybe it’s because Voldemort is so close to him, but Harry has but to close his eyes and he is right there: _He is standing in a run-down but familiar room with peeling wallpaper and boarded-up windows…_

 

_The sounds of the battle can be heard faintly in the distance, but this room is eerily quiet save for the occasional creaking floorboard as he slides from one side of the room to the other, rolling his wand meditatively between his fingers as he thinks of the secret Room in the castle that only he has ever found, a Room that — like the Chamber of Secrets — only reveals itself to those with cunning and curiousity and exceptional power…_

 

 _He is confident that the boy will not be able to find the diadem. Although he has to admit, albeit to himself only, that Dumbledore’s little puppet has come much further than he had every expected…_ too far _…_

 

 _”My Lord”, a voice speeks and even though it’s barely above a whisper it cracks pitifully, he turns slowly and studies the crumpled form of Lucius Malfoy coldly. ”My Lord…_ please _… my son…”_

 

_”If your son is dead, Lucius, it is not my fault. He did not come and join me, like the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps he has decided to befriend Harry Potter finally?”_

 

_”No — never”, Malfoys whispers._

 

_”You must hope not”, he says quietly._

 

_”Aren’t — aren’t you afraid, my Lord, that Potter might die at another’s hand?” Malfoy says, trying to be smooth but his voice keeps shaking, ruining the effect. ”Would it not be more prudent to — forgive me — call off the battle, and enter the castle to s-seek the boy yourself —?”_

 

_He smiles coldly, and says nothing until Malfoy ducks his head and averts his gaze._

 

_”Do not pretend, Lucius”, he sneers. ”You only wish this battle to end so that you might discover what has happened to your son… I do not need to seek out Potter. He will come to me before the night is over…”_

 

_He looks down at the wand in his hand and frowns… it is troubling him… he must make sure, before Potter shows up… he must be ready…_

 

_”Lucius, go and fetch Snape.”_

 

_”Snape, m- my Lord?”_

 

_”Snape, yes. Now. I need him…”_

 

_Malfoy gingerly hoists himself to his feet, carrying himself carefully as though sporting several injuries and scurries out of the room._

 

_”Yes, it is most unfortunate, Nagini — but it is the only way”, he says and turns to look at the snake, now suspended in mid-air inside the glitterly protective sphere he has created for her._

 

With a gasp, Harry pulls himself out of Voldemort’s mind and back to the corridor where Ron and Hermione is watching him anxiously. 

 

”He’s in the Shrieking Shack”, Harry says. ”The snake is there with him, it’s got some kind of magical protection around it and — and — ” Harry swallows thickly past the lump in his throat. ”He just sent Lucius Malfoy to get Severus… Said he needed him…”

 

”That can’t be good”, Ron murmurs darkly. 

 

The lump in Harry’s throat swells and he shakes his head. No, he thinks. It can’t be good, not if even Voldemort feels bad about it… 

 

”I have to —!” he mutters and whirls around to start running, but Ron grabs a hold of his arm and stops him. ”What—? Let go, Ron! I have to get there before —!”

 

”No”, Ron says seriously. ”That’s what he wants, that’s what he expects. You stay here and look after Hermione and I’ll go to the Shack —”

 

”You two stay here and I’ll go under the Cloak —” Harry counters. 

 

”No”, Hermione cuts in. ”It makes much more sense if I take the Cloak and —”

 

”Don’t even think about it”, Ron snarls at her. 

 

Hermione’s eyes flash furiously and she squares her shoulders, but doesn’t get any further than _”Ron, I’m just as capable”_ before the tapestry on the wall next to them is pulled aside to reveal two Death Eaters coming through the hidden passageway, ”POTTER!”

 

They both raise their wands, but before they’ve managed to formulate a curse, Hermione has pointed her own wand at the stairs and shouted ” _Glisseo!_ ”

 

The stairs flatten into a chute and Harry, Ron and Hermione hurl themselves down it, the Death Eaters curses flying over their heads. They fly through another tapestry at the end of the stairs and Hermione spins around on the floor and pointing her wand at it she shouts ” _Duro!_ ”

 

There are two loud, sickening crunches as the tapestry turns to stone and the two Death Eaters pursuing them crash into it on the other side. 

 

”Get back!” Ron yells and the three of them flatten themselves against the wall just in time to avoid being stampeded by a herd of galloping desks, shepherded by a sprinting Professor McGonagall shouting at them to ” _Charge!_ ”

 

Harry gets the Invisibility Cloak out and they huddle together underneath it. Their feets are visible, due to Ron’s size, but Harry doubts anyone will notice… They thunder down another staircase, then weave through what can only be described as a battle field of duelling wizards and witches, the teachers, students and Order members encouraged and applauded by the many portraits lining the walls, and ducking aside just in time to avoid one of the Snargaluff pods that Peeves the Poltergeist was pelting at the Death Eaters, they make for the top if the large marble staircase leading into the Entrance Hall. 

 

The familiar white-blonde head of Draco Malfoy can be seen at the upper landing of the staircase where he’s cowering before another masked Death Eater, ”I’m Draco Malfoy, I’m Draco, _I’m on your side —_!” 

 

Harry sends a Stunning Spell at the Death Eater without breaking his stride. Malfoy sags with relief then looks around, beaming, for a glimpse of his saviour — Ron punches him in the face from under the Cloak — Malfoy falls back and sprawls on top of the stunned Death Eater, looking utterly bemused as he covers his bleeding mouth with a trembling hand.

 

”And that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!” Ron yells over his shoulder. 

 

They skid over the last landing and take the remaining stairs two at a time. Ron continues to grumble about Malfoy being a two-faced coward. 

 

”He didn’t have a wand”, Harry says, panting. ”How else was he going to defend himself against that Death Eater —?”

 

”No, no way”, Ron says promptly. ”Snape I can deal with — but you won’t get me to feel any sympathy for Malfoy!”

 

”Fine”, Harry mutters, because he honestly doesn’t care one way or the other, especially now… They jump off the staircase and run across the Entrance Hall, dodging jets of light and flying debris. Harry resists the temptation to dip into Voldemort’s mind again to see if Severus has reached him; there is no time, they need to get to the Shrieking Shack, _need to get there before Severus… before it’s too late…_

 

”NO!” Hermione screams and with a deafening blast from her wand, Fenrir Greyback is thrown backwards from the feebly stirring body of… Lavender Brown, Harry realises with nauseating jolt… Greyback hits the marble banister and falls to the floor, but within seconds he is struggling to his feet again, fresh blood dripping from his leering mouth as he stalks towards them —

 

Then, with a bright white flash and a deafening _crack_ , a crystal ball falls through the air and smashes into the top of his head and he crumples to the floor once more, except this time he doesn’t move. 

 

”And there are plenty more where that came from!” Professor Trelawny shouts from over the banisters, her shawls hanging off her like wilted flower petals and her glasses askew, making only one of her eyes magnified as opposed to both. 

 

As they watch she heaves another enormous crystal ball into the air and then steers it with her wand, causing it to smash through a window. 

 

” _Come on!_ ” Harry says and continues to run towards the doors. 

 

They stumble out into the chilly night air. _But something is wrong,_ Harry realises almost immediately. The air is way too cold and it seems to reach into his very heart, turning his blood to ice in his veins. There’s something off about the darkness as well, it’s _too dark_ … 

 

 _No stars_ , he realises with a pang… _Dementors!_

 

”Harry, come on”, Hermione whispers urgently. ”Patronuses, Harry, come on!”

 

Harry grips his wand tighter and raises it, but there is a weight in his chest. He feels numb with cold. _What’s the point anyway?_ he thinks. _Voldemort has got the Elder Wand. There is no way I’ll be able to beat him. People are dying… People are dying i vain, and it’s all my fault… Severus might die at any moment, he might be getting tortured by Voldemort right now, and there’s nothing I can do about it…_

 

 _But — no, wait —_  

 

At the thought of Severus, some warmth seeps back into Harry’s chest, not a lot but enough; his mind clears… _Severus is in danger, I have to get to him, I have to save him — It is_ not _too late,_ not yet! _— I would have felt it if Voldemort had killed him already, I would know!_

 

 _Severus is still alive,_ Harry thinks and raises his wand, ” _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

 

The Dementors scatter as Harry’s stag charges them along with Ron’s terrier and Hermione’s otter, and  Harry experiences a sensation similar to walking out of a heavily air-conditioned room and out into the garden on a sweltering summer’s day. The stars are re-lit above their heads and air whooshes unhindered into Harry’s lungs again, making him a little light-headed. 

 

”Come on”, he croaks. ”The Whomping Willow…”

 

He sprints across the lawn, heading in the direction of Hagrid’s hut, Ron and Hermione close behind. When he finally reaches the big Willow, he stops to catch his breath just out of reach from the swiping branches and strains his eyes peering through the darkness, trying to make out the knot in the bark of the old tree that, when pressed, paralyses it. 

 

”How — how’re we going to get in —?” Ron pants. ”I can — see the place — if we just had — Crookshanks here —”

 

” _Crookshanks_ ”, Hermione wheezes, bent double and clutching her side. ”Are you a wizard, or what?”

 

”Oh — right — yeah —” Ron looks around quickly and spotting a twig on the ground he directs his wand at it and says, ” _Wingardium Leviosa_ ”

 

The twig zips past the swaying branches of the Willow and jabs at a place near its roots, and at once the tree stills. 

 

Harry hurtles forward and enters into the earthy passage hidden amongst the tree roots; it’s a much tighter fit this time around than the last time he tried it in Third Year, but he manages to wriggle himself into the tunnel. Nearly four years ago when he and Hermione had made the trek, they had had to walk doubled-over, but now there’s nothing for it but to crawl… Harry sighs, uncomfortably aware of the quickly passing seconds, minutes… He lights his wand and holds it out in front of him, then starts to crawl. 

 

Finally, after what feels like hours, the tunnel begins to slope upwards and Harry can see a sliver of light ahead. His heart is hammering so hard in his chest he’s sure the other must be able to hear it. 

 

”Harry”, Hermione whispers and tugs a little at his ankle. ”The Cloak! Put on the Cloak!”

 

Harry struggles for a minute with the slippery material, but finally manages to cover himself. 

 

” _Nox”_ , he whispers and continues to crawl silently up the slope. 

 

He can hear muffled voices coming from the room directly ahead, where the opening at the end of the tunnel has been blocked by an old crate. Holding his breath, Harry edges right up to it and peers through a tiny gap between the crate and the wall. 

 

The room is dimly lit by an old storm lantern, just like he saw in his vision earlier. He can see Nagini twisting and curling gracefully inside her protective sphere… and he can see the edge of a table upon which a white, almost skeletal hand is resting, twirling the Elder Wand between its’ fingers… 

 

”— my Lord”, Severus dark voice murmurs suddenly and Harry’s heart lurches; Severus is standing right next to the crate behind which Harry is hiding, _he is right there_ , ”Their resistance is crumbling…”

 

”And it is doing so without your help”, the cold voice of Voldemort whispers calmly. ”Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much of a difference now. We are almost there… almost.”

 

”Let me find the boy”, Severus says. ”Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please.”

 

Harry grips the wand tighter in his hand, to reassure himself that it’s still in his hand. He can hear the pulsing, whooshing sound of his own blood as it continues to pump through his veins, like holding up a shell to your ear and hearing the ghost of the sea… His mind has gone numb, hollow; there are no thoughts, merely fragments like _No_ and _Please_ and _SeverusSeverusSeverus_

 

”I have a problem, Severus”, Voldemort says softly. 

 

”My Lord?”

 

Voldemort holds up the Elder Wand delicately, ”Why doesn’t it work for me, Severus?”

 

In the heavy silence that follows, cold dread settles in the pit of Harry’s stomach as he begins to realise… He remembers sitting in Luna’s house listening to Hermione as she read the story of _The Three Brothers_ … He remembers Ollivander telling him about the legendary Death Stick, the most powerful wand of all time — the Elder Wand — that has passed from wizard to wizard, leaving a trail of blood behind it… 

 

 _Oh God,_ he thinks. _No. Severus_ —

 

As if reading his mind, Hermione scrambles with her wand and before Harry has opened his mouth to — what, he isn’t really sure, but to warn Severus somehow… But he can’t, because with a whispered _”Silencio”_ Hermione has rendered him voice-less and he can only mouth silently as Severus moves from his place next to the crate and cautiously approaches the table and Voldemort…

 

”Me — my Lord?” Severus says blankly. ”I do not understand. You — you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand.”

 

”No”, Voldemort says softly. ”I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand… No. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago.”

 

Harry’s scar starts to throb with pain as Voldemort speaks, the only thing alerting Harry to the calm fury that has begun to simmer under the cool exterior. 

 

”No difference…”

 

Severus says nothing. Harry wonders if he knows, if he can sense the danger he is in… Voldemort stands up slowly and beginds to move around the room as he continues to speak in the same measured voice that gives away nothing of his building fury, but Harry feels it, feels it like a painful weight in his mind and heart… ”I have thought long and hard, Severus… Do you know why I have called you back from the battle?”

 

”No, my Lord, but I beg you to let me return. Let me find Potter.”

 

”You sound like Lucius… neither of you understand Potter as I do. He does not need finding. He will come to me. You see, I know his weakness… Potter will not be able to stand watching all those people die, knowing it is because of him. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come… But it is _you_ I wish to talk about, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable.”

 

”My Lord knows I seek only yo serve him — but let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you, I know I can —”

 

”I have told you, no!” Voldemort says whirls around to face Severus, his red eyes flaring dangerously. ”My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!”

 

”M- My Lord, there can be no question, surely…”

 

”Oh, but there _is_ a question, Severus… Why did both the wands I have used, fail when directed at Harry Potter?”

 

”I — I cannot answer that, my Lord”, Severus says, slightly out of breath like he doesn’t dare speak too loudly.

 

”Can’t you?” Voldemort murmurs, and the pain in Harry’s scar spikes.

 

He screws his eyes shut as if that would shut the pain out as well: He is looking into the pale, drawn face of Severus Snape whose eyes flit to Nagini and then back to stare humbly at his — Voldemort’s — feet once more. 

 

”All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here wondering, wondering… why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner… and I think I have the answer.”

 

Severus black eyes flit up to meet his; his face has drained of blood completely, making him deathly pale, even more so than usual. 

 

”Perhaps you already know it?” Voldemort whispers. ”You are a clever man, after all, Severus… You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what has to happen —”

 

”My Lord —” Severus whispers, his dark eyes filled with terror even as his face remains impassive, a death mask. 

 

”The Elder Wand does not serve me, because I am not its rightful owner. It only serves the wizard who killed its last owner and you killed Albus Dumbledore. While live Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine… It cannot be any other way, I’m afraid…”

 

He raises the Elder Wand and swipes the air with it. At first, nothing happens and Severus looks relieved for a second. But when the great, silvery sphere in which Nagini is encased rolls through the air towards him, Voldemort’s intention becomes clear and with a terrified yell he stumbles back, but too late… The sphere engulfs him so that his head and shoulders are trapped inside it with the snake. 

 

” _Kill_ ”, Voldemort tells Nagini in Parseltongue.

 

 _NOOOO —!_ Harry screams silently, but because of Hermione’s spell it stays within the confines of his own mind, an echo of Severus own scream as the snake lunges at him and digs its great fangs into the side of his neck. 

 

”I regret it”, Voldemort says coldly, but there is no sadness in him, no remorse, just a cold determination as he grips the Elder Wand decisively in his hand. 

 

He points the wand at Nagini’s cage and after another quick stab of her fangs, it finally slips away from Severus again and he crumples to the floor as his knees give way underneath him. Voldemort turns to leave the Shack, Nagini trailing after him. 

 


	27. Memory Lane

_No no no no no,_ Harry screams silently, knocking his shoulder hard against the crate over and over again until it starts to inch out of the way.

 

”Harry”, Hermione lets out a choked whisper behind him but he ignores her. 

 

 _I have to get to Severus,_ he thinks desperately. _He’s not dead, he won’t die, I won’t let him, I_ will not _let him!_

 

Finally, the space between the crate and the wall is large enough for him to squeeze through. The Invisibility Cloak snags on a spliter in the wall, but he doesn’t care. He struggles out of the tunnel and heaves himself onto the rickety floor and half-crawls, half-stumbles over to Severus’ slumped form on the other side of the room. When he reaches him, he topples over and collapses on the floor next to the older man, whose face is now whiter than Harry has ever seen him; he looks half-dead already, even as he’s clutching his own neck to staunch the blood flow and gasping for breath. 

 

”Oh God, oh God”, Harry chokes out, barely aware of Hermione’s spell being lifted. ”Oh no, no no no, Severus, _Severus_ —”

 

_So much blood…_

 

Harry reaches out knocks Severus bloody fingers out of the way and replaces them with his own. He’s shaking terribly, but manages to press a hand firmly enough to the largest gash in Severus neck to stop it from spitting out blood with every one of Severus heartbeat… But despite that, Severus eyelids flicker dangerously and Harry can tell it takes all of Severus strength to keep his eyes focused…

 

A trembling hand curls against Harry’s chest, gripping the front of his robes weakly, pulling him closer, closer… and the man opens his mouth to speak, but instead of his silky voice a terrible rasping, gurgling noise issues from his throat. 

 

”No”, Harry gasps. ”No, you’re going to be fine, Severus!”

 

The man’s eyes roll backwards briefly, but with another deep breath that seems to exhaust him completely, he manages to snap his focus back to Harry. 

 

”Take… it…” he gasps. 

 

Harry shakes his head, ”What? What? I don’t understand —!”

 

” _Take… it…_ ”

 

And then Harry sees it: something other than blood is gushing out of Severus, a silvery blue substance, neither gas not liquid, that leaks from his mouth and ears and eyes… _Memories_ , Harry realises with a jolt. _But what am I supposed to do with them?_

 

”H- Hermione —!” he yells desperately, his voice breaking. ”Hermione, I need a container, a — a flask or something, _anything!_ ”

 

She sprints forward and conjures up a flask from thin air and hands it to him with a trembling hand. Her eyes are wide and tear-filled, but Harry can’t think about that now. It would make the situation all too real.

 

He holds the flask up to Severus face, but the memories slide off it. He puts the flask down on the floor and then grabs his wand with his free hand and gathers up the wisps of memory and gently deposits them into the flask until it’s filled to the brim. Severus grip on his robes relaxes and his hand falls to his side. Harry looks up in panic; Severus eyes are dull, but still resolutely fixed on Harry’s… 

 

”Severus”, Harry sobs. ”Stay with me, please, _stay with me…_ ”

 

”Look… at… me…” Severus gasps quietly. 

 

”No!” Harry exclaims. ” _Don’t you dare—!”_  

 

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Harry tips himself over and crashes his lips against Severus; the older man’s lips are soft and relaxed against his, and Harry kisses him deeply and desperately; trying to pour all of his emotions into this one touch… 

 

Severus lips part slightly, and Harry lets his tongue dab at the inside of his lower lip teasingly, then pulls back enough to let Severus kiss back — but he doesn’t… 

 

Harry flinches, his heart smattering erratically and his mind short-circuiting as he stares in horror at the man; Severus eyes are mere slits underneath heavy lids, his mouth is slack and his skin white as bone…

 

”No”, Harry chokes.

 

”Mate…” Ron’s stunned voice says from somewhere close by, but Harry can’t look at him or Hermione now, can’t deal with their horrified faces or clumsy sympathy.

 

”No — Severus — _please_ no —”

 

Harry struggles to untie his Gryffindor tie one-handed and then loops it around Severus’ neck like a makeshift bandage. By the time he’s secured the silky material in place, both his hands are bloody and he feels slightly sick to the stomach. 

 

”Harry…” Hermione whispers tentatively. 

 

”I have to go”, he says swiftly and scrambles to his feet, clutching the flask of Severus memories in his hand and avoiding his friends’ eyes. ”Dumbledore’s Office — the Pensive — I have to — Se- Snape wanted me to see this, whatever it is…”

 

”Harry”, Hermione whispers again, her voice thick with suppressed emotion.

 

”No”, Harry says faintly. ”I — I have to do this — I’ll — I’ll see you later —”

 

And then he runs. Without as much as a glance at his friends, he squeezes into the tunnel again and crawls as if his life depended on it… and it sort of feels like it does, like maybe if he can get to the Pensive quick enough, and see whatever Severus wanted him to see, he can somehow fix things…

 

” _You have fought valiantly_ ”, Voldemort’s cold voice rings out across the grounds of Hogwarts as Harry runs from the Whomping Willow across the lawn outside Hagrid’s Hut and then up to the castle. ” _Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will die… I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste… Lord Voldemort is merciful; I hereby command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour; dispose of your dead with dignity, treat your injured…_ ”

 

Harry runs up the Marble staircase, slipping on something wet on the first landing — _Blood?_ — but doesn’t stop, just continues to scramble forth…

 

” _I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you_ ”, Voldemort continues. ” _You have permitted your friends to die for you, instead of facing me yourself… I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of the hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then the battle will recommence and I will enter the fray myself… I will find you, Harry Potter, and I will punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me…_ _One hour…_ ”

 

Harry skids across the last landing and then hurtles up the remaining stairs two at a time, his chest is tight and his face cold and itchy from the tears that keep streaming down his cheeks… He wishes he could tear out his heart, scoop out his insides, everything that makes him _feel_ and dispose of it… What was the point of feeling anyway? What was so good about _love_ , when all it did was cause you this unbearable pain? 

 

Dumbledore always went on and on about love, and how it was the one power Harry held over Voldemort… But he doesn’t see it; after all _he_ is the one in pain now, not Voldemort… So how is love an advantage? 

 

As Harry runs down the corridor, his footsteps echo eerily around him… The corridor is completely deserted. Even the ghosts seem to have retreated to the Great Hall… _Dispose of your dead, treat your injured…_

 

 _I wonder who else is dead,_ Harry thinks with a nauseating jolt. 

 

He thunders to a stop next to the large Griffin gargoyle and without thinking shouts ”Dumbledore” and to his immense relief, the slightly battered gargoyle steps aside, revealing the spiral staircase that leads to the Headmaster’s office, and Harry hurtles up them. 

 

Bursting through the doors, he is met by a chorus of startled gasps and yells from the portraits in the room, but he ignores them all. Scanning the room quickly, he sees the stone Pensive in its usual place in the cabinet in the corner and hurries over to it. He grabs it with both hands and heaves it onto the desk, then pours Severus’ memories into it… they swirl, silver-white and strange, and without hesitating, Harry dives —

 

He falls headlong into sunlight and chirping bird song, his feet connect with warm ground and when he straightens up and looks around, he immediately spots the huge chimney… _Spinner’s End,_ he thinks with a jolt. _Severus’s home_ … But he isn’t exactly by Severus’s house, nor at the street Spinner’s end, but at a playground nearby. He can see two little girls on each of the swings, one with red hair and one with mousy brown. 

 

Looking down, Harry sees a young black-haired boy next to him and realises with a jolt that this must be Severus when he was barely ten years old… Harry feels a lump in his throat growing, but forces himself to stay calm. Young Severus is skinny, almost unhealthily so and he’s got the pallor of someone who isn’t properly looked-after. His hair is long and messy, hanging in clumps around his sallow face. And he is wearing almost comically mismatched clothes, his jeans at least three inches too short but his coat over-large and clearly handed down from someone much bigger, maybe even a grown man judging by the way it hang off young Severus’ lithe frame and drags on the ground after him. 

 

”Lily, don’t do it!” the mousy-haired girl shouts and Harry glances over at the swingset again, realising with another jolt that the beaming, red-haired girl must be his mother… 

 

Severus is watching Lily as well and there’s a longing in his eyes; Harry doesn’t want to think about that, he already knows what Severus felt for his mother and he _really_ doesn’t want to think about it, especially not now… He turns to look at the girls again. Lily lets go of her swing and jumps into the air, but instead of crashing to the ground she seems to soar for a moment before landing gently on her feet. 

 

”Mummy told you not to!” the other girl says, and Harry realises this must be his aunt Petunia. 

 

Lily picks a flower from the ground and holds it in the palm of her hand; she shows Petunia, but Harry can’t see what she’s making it do from where he’s standing and he feels reluctant to step away from Severus — even though he knows this is a memory, and this representation of a ten-year-old Severus isn’t even aware of Harry’s presence, he still can’t seem to bring himself to leave the boy’s side…

 

”Stop it!” Petunia shrieaks indignantly. 

 

”It’s not hurting you!” Lily says, but throws the flower to the ground again all the same. 

 

”It’s not right”, Petunia insists. ”How do you do it anyway?”

 

”It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Severus says and walks out from behind the bushes where he was hiding. 

 

The girls startle, and Petunia runs backwards towards the swinset again, gripping the swing pole like a shield. 

 

”What’s obvious?” Lily asks curiously. 

 

”I know what you are”, Severus says quietly. ”You’re… you’re a _witch._ ”

 

” _That’s_ not a very nice thing to say to somebody!” Lily says affronted and turns away swiftly and joins her sister at the swing set. 

 

”No!” Severus says quickly and hurries after her, his large coat flapping behind him, eeriely reminiscent of the adult Severus Snape’s billowing robes. ”You _are_! You _are_ a witch. I’ve been watching you for a while. It’s nothing wrong with that — my mum’s a witch as well, and I’m a wizard!”

 

” _Wizard!_ ” Petunia shrieks and laughs cruelly. ” _I_ know who _you_ are! You’re that Snape boy — They live down Spinner’s End by the river”, she informs her sister with a look of disdain on her face that Harry recognises all too well, but it’s still absurd to see it on such a young girl’s face. 

 

Severus glares back at her, but his cheeks are definitely rosy with embarassment. 

 

”Why have you been spying on us?” Petunia demands. 

 

”Haven’t been _spying_!” Severus snarls. ”I wouldn’t spy on _you_ anyway, _you’re_ a _muggle_!”

 

Although Petunia clearly doesn’t know what muggle means, there’s no mistaking Severus tone. She draws herself up indignantly and says ”Come on, Lily! We’re leaving!”

 

Lily follows Petunia immediately and glares at Severus as she walks past him. Severus stares after them with a look of bitter disappointment on his face —

 

The scene dissolves and before Harry really knows what’s happened, his surroundings have reformed and he’s standing in a small thicket of trees. Harry looks around desperately until he catches sight of them: they’re sitting cross-legged on the ground, facing each other. Severus has finally taken off his gigantic coat and he’s tucked his hair behind his ears, so that his face seems more open and vulnerable… He moves his hands slowly but emphatically as he talks, Lily is staring wide-eyed as she listens… Harry finds himself smiling: _they’re so small and innocent still…_

 

He knows where he’s heading — Severus has already told him this story once before — and he doesn’t want to see it, he wants to stay here; _oh if I could stay right here forever…_

 

But the scenes keep playing out, then dissolving, changing… Harry stands back and watches as Severus grows up, alongside his mother Lily, and later on when the memories take place at Hogwarts, he gets to see his father James, and Sirius and Remus as well… but it’s with decidedly mixed feelings that he watches the grinning, almost leering faces of the young Marauders… He doesn’t know if the memories are subjective and the Marauders are remembered by the adult Severus as particularly cruel, or if his father and godfather really had been that viscious… 

 

Harry hovers uncertainly next to a teenage Severus who sits hunched over by a tree near the lake, pouring over some ancient tome and basically licking his wounds after yet another run-in with the Gryffindors. His eyes are red and swollen, so he’s clearly been crying, but Harry didn’t get to see that part of the memory… He still feels like he’s intruding, even now — but Severus obviously wanted him to watch all the memories he extracted, including this one, so he stays put… 

 

Lily approaches Severus carefully and when he doesn’t say anything to her, she sinks down on the ground next to him and laces their hands together. The scowl on Severus’ face quickly fades, although it’s clear to Harry that he’s trying to hold onto it. 

 

”They’re a bunch of idiots”, Lily says, almost conversationally.

 

”They’re _your friends_!” Snape spits, managing to regain a little control over his face again. 

 

”They are _not_ my friends”, Lily says savagely. ”Just because they’re in my house. I’d never be friends with such bullies, Sev. You _know me_ … _You’re_ my friend.”

 

A sad but hopeful look crosses over Snape’s face then and he glances at her face uncertainly. 

 

”They’re right though”, he whispers. ”I _am_ a queer.”

 

Harry’s heart skips a beat. 

 

 _Wait, wha— what? what what what?_ he thinks, and he is so busy wondering if the Pensieve comes with a _Rewind_ button that he almost misses Lily’s response.

 

First she shakes out her red curls with an air of someone whose got no patience for silly things, but then she gently squeezes Severus hand and says, ”You’re a _homosexual,_ that doesn’t make you _queer_.”

 

Harry’s heart is racing now. _Severus is gay? But he said — wait, what_ did _he say?_

 

”Well, maybe I’m both”, Snape says with a hesitant twitch of his lips. 

 

Lily purses her lips and glares at him, then a beaming smile breaks out on her face and she laughs freely. 

 

”Don’t be silly”, she says, still chuckling.

 

 _He said he loved my mother_ , Harry thinks firmly. _So — Well, I guess_ I _love_ Hermione, _but I don’t_ fancy _her… Maybe that’s what he meant? Could that be it —?_

 

”Besides”, Lily adds more seriously. ”Don’t pay attention to those idiots, they’re probably all repressed homosexuals themselves and that’s why they’re giving you such a hard time.”

 

Snape snorts a little, it’s half-amused, half-derisive. 

 

”Potter isn’t homosexual, Lils. He’s completely in love with _you…_ _as you well know_.”

 

Lily sniffs and looks away, ”No I _don’t know._ ”

 

Snape rolls his eyes a little at her fondly, but doesn’t say anything else — Harry gets the feeling that this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation. 

 

Harry’s heart is still beating hard as the scene dissolves around him, and he barely even pays attention when the next memory plays out — he’s seen it before though, it’s the same memory that he watched in Fifth Year while Severus left the office, and it was uncomfortable enough to watch once, he really doesn’t need to see it again…

 

” _I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!_ ” 

 

Harry winces, _Yeah definitely don’t need to see this twice…_

 

The scene dissolves before James makes up his mind over whether or not to remove Severus pants and Harry finds himself standing next to the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

 

”I’m sorry”, Fifteen-year-old Severus is saying. 

 

Lily is wearing a dressing gown and is standing with her arms firmly crossed, ”I’m not interested.”

 

”I’m sorry!” Severus says again, a desperate note in his voice now and his eyes are pleading, but Lily gazes back with a stony expression on her face. 

 

”Save your breath. I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here.”

 

”I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just —”

 

”Slipped out?” Lily guesses coldly. ”It’s too late, Sev. I’ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious _Death Eater friends…_ You see, _you don’t even deny it!_ You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?”

 

Severus opens his mouth to speak, but no sound can be heard and after a horrible moment of tense silence he shuts it again without a word. 

 

”I can’t pretend anymore, Severus. You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine.”

 

”No —” he says in a strangles voice. ” _Please_ — listen, I didn’t mean —”

 

”— to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?”

 

With a final contemptuous look, Lily twirls away from Severus and climbs back through the portrait hole. 

 

The corridor dissolves and this time it takes a little longer for the memory to form… But when it does, Harry finds himself on a hilltop, with cold wind whipping him around the face and pulling his overly-long hair. 

 

” _Don’t kill me!_ ” 

 

Harrry whirls around, heart pounding. A young, but definitely grown-up Severus is kneeling not five feet away from him. His eyes are wide with fright and desperation, his face white-pale… 

 

”That was not my intention”, the familiar, calm voice of Albus Dumbledore says. 

 

The old man slowly approaches Severus and looks down at him with an almost impassive face, _almost_ save for the calm fury in his blue eyes… 

 

”Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?”

 

”No — no message — I’m here on my own account!” Severus says, wringing his hands anxiously. ”I — I come with a w-warning — n-no — a request — _please_ —”

 

”What request could a Death Eater make of me?” Dumbledore asks calmly. 

 

”The — the prophecy — the prediction — Trelawny…”

 

”Ah, yes”, Dumbledore says and nods calmly. ”How much of it did you relay to Lord Voldemort?”

 

”Everything — everything I heard”, Severus says. ”That is why — it is for that reason — he thinks it means Lily Evans! Oh please, you must protect her, _you must save her!_ ”

 

”The prophecy did not refer to a woman”, Dumbledore counters, but there is a flash of understanding in his eyes. ”It spoke of a boy — born at the end of July —”

 

”You know what I mean! He thinks it means _her son_! He is going to hunt her — _them_ — down and _kill them all!_ ”

 

”If she means so much to you, surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?”

 

”I have — I have asked him —” Severus stammers. 

 

”You disgust me”, Dumbledore says and for the first time his impassive face contorts with anger and disgust as he stares down his nose at Severus who is trembling now. ”You do not care then about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?”

 

”Hide them all, then”, Severus croaks miserably. ”Keep her — them — safe. Please!”

 

”And what will you give me in return, Severus?” Dumbledore says and Harry is taken aback by the swift question — _they’re bargaining, over my life, and the lives of my parents,_ Harry thinks and feels his stomach turn at the idea. 

 

”In — in return?” Severus says quietly, gaping at Dumbledore and Harry is sure he’ll refuse to answer, but then a look of determination settles over the man’s face and he draws himself up a little. ” _Anything._ ”

 

The hilltop dissolves again and the process seems to take a lot longer this time, as if the next memory was reluctant to play… and slowly, Harry becomes aware of a terrible noise that grows in volume as the memory takes shape around him; it’s like a wounded animal wailing in pain — Harry shivers uncomfortably and blinks his eyes open; he is standing in Dumbledore’s office again. 

 

Little has changed, except there are more of Dumbledore’s silvery instruments spread out over the room, and of course the man himself is sitting behind his desk and staring solemnly at something behind Harry…

 

With a sickening jolt, Harry turns around and realises what is making the noise… Severus is sitting on the floor, slumped over and curled in on himself, his delicate hands are fisted in his black hair and his whole body is shaking. Harry automatically springs forward with an involuntary impulse to… do something, _anything_ , to ease some of the man’s pain, to make the noise stop, to just gather him up in his arms and hold him while he cries… But of course Harry can do none of those things, he is just a ghost in this scene and whatever has caused Severus to unravel like this — and Harry can guess what that might be — has long since transpired. 

 

He glances over at Dumbledore though, feeling a stab of anger at the older wizard for just _sitting there and_ staring calmly — _always so bloody calm!_ — and not doing anything to comfort Severus…

 

”I thought… you promised… you _said_ — going to — k-keep her _s-safe_ —” Severus stutters between sobs. 

 

”Lily and James put their faith in the wrong person”, Dumbledore says, still as calmy as ever. ”Much like yourself, Severus… Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort might save her after all?”

 

Another frail wail squeezes its way out of Severus throat and he seems to curl in on himself further, tighter, like a coiled spring, trembling with the effort to keep himself together.

 

”Her boy survived”, Dumbledore says and his tone finally grows a little gentle, but even Harry gets how that would be of little comfort to the young man whose whole world has been rent apart. ”Her son lives…”

 

Severus head gives a jerky shake underneath the shelter of his fists, as if flinching away from an intrusive fly. 

 

”He has her eyes…” Dumbledore continues. 

 

” _Don’t_!” Severus screams. ”Gone… dead…”

 

”Is this remorse then, Severus?”

 

”I wish — I wish _I_ were dead —!”

 

”And what use would that be to anyone?” Dumbledore counters coldly and Harry stares incredulously at him. ”If you truly loved Lily Evans, then your way forward is quite clear.”

 

For a long moment Severus simply gasps for breath, but finally he peers out at Dumbledore through the slim wrists in front of his face, like bars on a prison cell, and hiccoughs pitifully, ”W-What — What do you m-mean?”

 

”You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain… Help me protect her son, Ha—”

 

” _He does not need protection!_ The Dark Lord is g-gone —”

 

”It is my firm belief that he will be back, and when he returns Harry Potter will be in terrible danger.”

 

There is another long pause, but Severus finally manages to get both his breathing and his tears under control and Harry watches with a twinge in his heart as the familiar coldness of Professor Severus Snape settles over the young man, ”Very well… But never — _never tell,_ Dumbledore! This must be between us, swear it! I cannot bear… especially Potter’s son… I want your word!”

 

”My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighs. ”If you insist…”

 

The circular walls around them seem to shudder, and at first Harry isn’t sure what happened, but as he finds Severus suddenly on his feet and pacing between Harry and Dumbledore’s desk, he realises the office must have dissolved and reformed again just as quickly, as some time has passed. Severus is furious, and by the sound of it he’s the middle of a tirade that the Dumbledore sitting at the desk this time around seems to barely pay attention to, in fact he is flicking through a copy of _Transfiguration Today_ with an air of calm that is now bordering on nonchalance. 

 

”— mediocre, arrogant as his father and like his father before him a determined rule-breaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent —”

 

Harry frowns, not sure he wants to see this… and part of him wonders why Severus would want him to…

 

”You see what you expect to see, Severus”, Dumbledore calmly interrupts Severus tirade without looking up from his magazine. ”Other teachers have reported that the boy is modest, likeable and reasonably talented. Personally, I find him an engaging child.”

 

”You would”, Severus mutters savagely, still pacing. ”You _and Minerva…_ your golden Gryffindor… only care about the Quidditch Cup…”

 

”That is hardly fair, Severus”, Dumbledore says. ”But speaking of quidditch…”

 

The office dissolves again and in a whirl of colour the world darkens around Harry, and he finds himself standing in the Entrance Hall, secretly squeezed in-between Dumbledore and Severus where they stand watching the last stragglers from the Yule Ball head up the marble staircase towards their beds. 

 

”Well?” Dumbledore says. 

 

”Karkaroff’s Mark is becoming darker too”, Severus murmurs. ”He is panicking. He fears retribution; you know how much help he gave the Ministry after the Dark Lord fell…”

 

Severus looks sideways at Dumbledore’s profile, and Harry almost catches his eyes and his stomach flutters. 

 

”Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns.”

 

”Does he?” Dumbledore says softly, but there is not a trace of surprise on his face. ”And are you tempted to join him?”

 

”No”, Severus says immediately, turning to watch as Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stumbles in from the grounds, both giggling. ”I am not such a coward.”

 

”No”, Dumbledore agrees. ”You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff… You know, I sometimes wonder if we don’t Sort too soon…”

 

With a familiar twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore turns to walk away, leaving Severus and Harry alone in the Entrance Hall for a second, both stricken and staring after him. 

 

The Entrance Hall and Severus whirl around Harry and he finds himself standing in the middle of Dumbledore’s office once more… the old man is slumped sideways in his chair, his eyes heavy-lidded as Severus is muttering incantations over his blackened hand while pouring some kind of potion into his slack mouth. 

 

After a moment or two, Dumbledores eyeslids flutter and he sits up a little straighter, coming to… 

 

”Why”, snarls Severus. ” _Why_ did you put on that ring? Surely you must have sensed the dark curse that has been put on it? Why would you even _touch it_?”

 

”I… was a fool”, Dumbledore murmurs with a grimace, nudging the cracked ring of Marvolo Gaunt. ”Sorely tempted…”

 

”It is a miracle you even made it here alive!” Severus says, his voice rising. ”That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it as all we can hope for; I have trapped it one hand for the time being—”

 

Dumbledore raises his blackened hand and peers at it almost curiously. ”You have done very well, Severus… How long do you think I have?”

 

Severus hesitates, and tenses up, ”I cannot tell, maybe a year… There is no halting this kind of curse forever. It will spread, eventually. It is the sort of curse that strenghtens over time.”

 

”I am fortunate, extremely fortunate that I have you, Severus”, Dumbledore smiles but this seems to have been the wrong thing to say to the already furious man who immediately whirls around and starts pacing the office, ”If you had summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more! Buy you more time!”

 

With great effort, Dumbledore straightens himself up further in his chair, ”Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward… I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me.”

 

Severus stares at Dumbledore, stricken and extremely pale in the face. He walks back to the desk and sinks down in the chair opposite Dumbledore, the very same chair Harry has sat in countless of times when meeting with the Headmaster. 

 

”The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed. This is merely punishment for Lucius’s recent failures… slow torture for Draco’s parents, while they watch him fail and then pays the price…”

 

”In short”, Dumbledore says. ”The boy has a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have… Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?”

 

There is a tense moment of silence, then Severus gives a curt nod, ”That, I think, is the Dark Lord’s plan.”

 

”Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will no longer need a spy at Hogwarts?”

 

”He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes.”

 

”And if it does indeed fall into his grasp, I have your word that you will do everything in your power to keep the students safe?”

 

Severus gives him a half-hearted glare, as if to suggest otherwise was a great insult to him and knowing the man as well as he does by now, Harry thinks it probably was. 

 

”Yes”, Severus hisses. 

 

Dumbledore nods, satisfied with the answer and leans back in his throne-like seat, ”Now then, your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as himself. Offer him help and guidance. He ought to accept, he likes you —”

 

”— not as much as he used to”, Severus admits. ”He feels that I have usurped Lucius’s position with the Dark Lord.”

 

”All the same, do try. I am concerned for the accidental victims of whatever scheme the boy might come up with. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort’s wrath…”

 

Severus eyebrows shoots up towards his hairline, ”Are you intending to let him kill you?” he asks sardonically. 

 

”Certainly not. It must be _you_ who kills me, Severus…”

 

”Of course, would you like me to do it now?” Severus says sarcastically. ”Or would you like a few moments to set your affairs in order?”

 

”Oh, not guite yet”, Dumbledore smiles gently. ”I daresay the moment will present itself… Given what has happened tonight though, we can be sure that it will happen within a year.”

 

”If you don’t mind dying”, Severus snarls. ”Then why not let Draco do it?”

 

”The boy’s soul is not yet so damaged. I would not have it ripped apart on my account.”

 

”And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine? _Already shredded beyond hope, is it?_ What’s one more _evil deed_ —?”

 

”That is not what I meant, my boy”, Dumbledore says calmly. ”You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation… I ask this one, great favour of you, Severus, because death is coming for me as surely as Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year’s league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the prolonged and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved, or dear Bellatrix who always did like to play with her food before eating it…”

 

The atmosphere in the office is cold as ice, but finally Severus gives Dumbledore a tiny nod and Harry swallows thickly as he glimpses the sheen of unshed tears in the man’s eyes before he swiftly looks away. 

 

”Thank you, Severus…” Dumbledore murmurs gently. ”Now, I believe it is still essential for Harry to learn Occlumency — don’t start —” 

 

Dumbledore holds up his good hand to stop Severus’s protest and the other man closes his mouth again with a snap and glares back. 

 

”Once more, I must ask too much of you Severus…” 

 

The office disappears once more in a whirl of colours and Harry finds himself standing in the street outside number four Privet Drive and his stomach flips over; Severus is wearing his travel Cloak and scowling at the house in front of him. Clicking Dumbledore’s Deluminator, he extinguises the light of the streetlamp over his head and then strides purposefully up the driveway. Harry hurries to keep up with him, his heart hammering wildly as Severus presses the doorbell.

 

With the weirdest sense of deja vu, Harry watches the scene between Severus and Uncle Vernon except this time from the opposite angle. When he sees himself thundering down the stairs and pausing halfway down with a deer-in-headlights look on his face, it’s almost too much. 

 

Following Severus and the memory of himself into the livingroom, Harry tunes out the conversation and amuses himself with watching the Dursleys up close instead. 

 

Finally when his memory self sprints out of the room, Harry turns back to look at Severus, wondering why the man would decide to include a memory that Harry already knew about having been present himself. 

 

”I was given very clear directives before coming here tonight”, Severus murmurs quietly, startling Harry and he looks between the Dursleys and Severus as the man’s eyes seem to darken further and he advances on the three muggles in the sofa. 

 

”And believe me, if Dumbledore had not made me swear to leave all three of you untouched…” he trails off suggestively and favours Uncle Vernon with a piercing glare. 

 

Uncle Vernon’s mouth moves desperately, but Severus’s silence jinx is making him unable to speak. Severus eyes glitter dangerously, ”I would have taken great pleasure in treating you _exactly_ as you have treated Harry all these years… maybe even worse, I do believe I can be _a bit more creative_ than you yourself has been… unfortunately, I have given my word—”

 

The Dursleys sag with relief. 

 

”—However…” Severus adds with a malicious smirk. ”I could always _come back_ … when you least expect it…”

 

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stare in horror. Dudley’s eyes roll back into his head and he slumps sideways onto his mother’s shoulder and she jumps with a gasp, ” _D-Dudders—_?” she whispers. ”W-What did you _d-d-do_ —?”

 

”Nothing yet”, Severus says silkily. ”But do remember, that if I hear that you have mistreated Harry in _any_ way again… I _will_ be back.”

 

The sound of thundering footsteps can be heard from the hallway and Severus straightens up from his intimidating pose, looming over the Dursleys, and without another word he swirls around and leaves the room. 

 

Harry stares after him in shock, rooted to the spot. The sound of the front door slamming shut shakes him out of his stupor and he hurries to run after Severus and himself, but before he makes it out of the livingroom the world starts spinning around him once more. 

 

He blinks his eyes open and finds himself in a different livingroom and his heart leaps — _Spinner’s End!_ — he whirls around and sees himself kneeling in the middle of the floor and clutching his own stomach and heaving… _The panic attack_ , he remembers and for a second it’s like he’s watching the memory from outside and reliving it inside his own mind at the same time… 

 

Severus strides past him into the room and without as much as a split-second’s hesitation the man kneels next to the distraught boy on the floor and puts his arms around him; Harry watches in morbid fascination as the memory of himself latches onto Severus and continues to cry into his chest while the man murmurs gently, his mouth brushing the boy’s — _Harry’s_ — forehead through his messy fringe before he ducks his head and buries his face harder against his chest. 

 

Severus sighs, a pained look flickering onto his face as he tightens his embrace and gently rubs his hand between Harry’s shoulderblades. 

 

Harry follows in a daze as Severus guides Memory Harry into the spare bedroom and tucks him into bed, where he promptly falls asleep. Severus sighs again and sits down on the side of the bed for a moment, looking just as exhausted as the sleeping Harry… he reaches out with a hand and gently moves a few hair strands over the boy’s forehead, revealing the lightening bolt scar… 

 

”What are you doing to me, Harry?” the man murmurs. 

 

Then removing his hand again as though burnt, he swiftly stands up and strides out of the room again. 

 

 _What the Hell was that?_ Harry thinks in panic. _What does that even_ mean _? What are you trying to tell me, Sev—?_

 

The room dissolves around him and he finds himself in the grounds outside Hogwarts, where Severus and Dumbledore are strolling side by side. Cursing silently, he jogs to catch up with them. 

 

”What are you doing with Potter all these evenings you are closeted together?” Severus says abruptly.

 

”I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him, information I must give him before it is too late.”

 

”Information”, Severus repeats. 

 

”It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do, and as we both know I have limited time.”

 

”And why may I not have the same information?”

 

”I prefer not to put all my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort—”

 

”Which I do on _your_ orders!”

 

”And you do it extremely well”, Dumbledore says gently. ”Do not think that I underestimate the constant danger you are in, Severus… to give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you.”

 

”Yet you confide much more in a boy who has a direct connection into the Dark Lord’s mind!”

 

”Voldemort fears that connection”, Dumbledore says. ”It is indeed in Harry’s best interest to have mastered Occlumency, so that Voldemort might not use his own mind against him, but I do not believe he will ever attempt to possess him again… When he tried it in the Ministry for Magic he got a small taste of what sharing Harry’s mind would mean for him, and it was pain such as he has never experienced before or after… Lord Voldemort’s soul, as maimed as it is, cannot bear close contact with a soul like Harry’s… it’s like touching his tongue to frozen steel, or sticking his hand into a flame —”

 

” _Souls?_ We were talking about _minds_!” Severus interrupts and Harry notices that he looks slightly uncomfortable.

 

”In the case of Harry and Lord Voldemort, to speak of one is to speak of the other…” Dumbledore slows down his pace and with a cursory glance around them to make sure they are alone, he lowers his voice further. ”After you have killed me, Severus —”

 

”You refuse to tell me everything, yet you expect that small service of me!” Severus snarls, and Harry glances around just like Dumbledore and discovers that they are standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and realises with a jolt that they aren’t alone as Dumbledore had assumed, because this is the conversation that Hagrid had overheard. ”You take a great deal for granted, Dumbledore! Perhaps I have changed my mind!”

 

”You gave me your word, Severus”, Dumbledore says with a steely look. ”And speaking of services you owe me, I thought you agreed to keep a close eye on our young Slytherin friend?”

 

Severus presses his lips together and glares back at Dumbledore, looking nearly mutinous. 

 

Dumbledore sighs, looking every one of his 100+ years suddenly, ”All right, my boy… come to my office tonight at eleven, and I will tell you…”

 

Back in Dumbledore’s office, the windows dark and everything silent, Harry sidles up to the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk where Severus sits stoically and stares intently at Dumbledore. Harry reaches out a hand and places it on top of Severus shoulder… it rests there, but Harry can’t feel the texture of the man’s robes against his palm nor the warmth of his body. He feels nothing, like his hand is really resting in mid-air… but he leaves it where it is all the same.

 

”Harry must not know, not until the very last moment, not until it is absolutely necessary, otherwise how could he have the strength to do what must be done?” Dumbledore says. 

 

”But what must he do?” Severus asks quietly and there’s a spark of fear in his eyes. 

 

”That is between Harry and me. Now, listen closely, Severus… There will come a time — after my death — do not argue, do not interrupt! There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake.”

 

”For Nagini?” Severus says blankly. 

 

”Yes. If he stops sending her away to do his bidding and instead keeps her close to his side, under magical protection, then it will be safe to tell Harry.”

 

”Tell him what?”

 

Dumbledore closes his eyes and heaves a great sigh, then begins to speak quickly but clearly, as if wanting to get the words out as quickly as possible so that the whole scene might be over, ”Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort and a fragment of Voldemort’s soul was blasted apart from the whole and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsed building… Part of Voldemort’s soul lives inside Harry, and it is that that has created the connection between their minds and it is also the reason Harry is a Parselmouth. And while that fragment of soul, missed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die…”

 

Harry feels like he is watching the scene between the two men as if staring down a long tunnel, their voices seeming to come from far away and distorted slightly as if filtered by water… 

 

”So the boy… the boy must die?” Severus asks quietly. 

 

”And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential.”

 

There is a long moment of silence, but it isn’t until Severus speaks again that Harry realises the man has started trembling, his hand, although still resting atop the man’s shoulder, unaware of the movement. 

 

”I thought… all these years, I thought… we were _protecting him_ …”

 

”We have protected him, because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength”, Dumbledore says, his eyes still firmly squeezed shut. ”Meanwhile the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth: sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will, truly, mean the end of Voldemort.”

 

”You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?” Severus says, his voice dangerously low. 

 

Dumbledore finally opens his eyes and stares sadly at him, ”Don’t be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?”

 

”Lately, only those whom I have failed to save”, he says swiftly and stands him, Harry’s hand slides off him as though he were a ghost, and something about that makes his chest tighten. ”You have used me…”

 

”Meaning?”

 

”I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. I have done everything you ever asked of me. And it was all supposed to be to keep Lily’s son safe — to keep Harry safe — all of it — was for him!” Severus voice rises as though of its own accord and the man is shaking with barely controlled emotion from head to foot, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. ”And now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter —!”

 

”This is touching, Severus”, Dumbledore says calmly. ”Have you seriously grown to care for the boy after all?”

 

There is a moment of such intense silence that the air seems dense with it, and Harry’s ears are ringing, his heart pounding so furiously, so painfully… Severus face shutters, and he blinks the tears away, ”I will never forgive you, Albus.”

 

Dumbledore seems almost stricken, and a couple of tears well up in his eyes as well and run freely down his face to disappear into his beard. Severus stares at him coolly, then turns away so slowly that his robes don’t even move and leaves the office again. The door clicks shut with such finality that Harry almost wishes he’d slammed it instead. 

 

The scene shifts again. The windows are bright with daylight and it is Severus who is sitting behind the desk now. He is talking to the portrait of Dumbledore, but he seems to be avoiding looking directly at it. 

 

Suddenly Phineas Nigellus comes running into his own picture frame, ”Headmaster Snape! They are camping in the Forest of Dean! The Mudblood —”

 

”Do not use that word!”

 

”— the Granger girl, then, she mentioned it as she opened the bag and I heard her!”

 

”Good, very good!” Dumbledore’s portrait cries. ”Now, Severus, the sword! And do not forget that it must be taken under conditions of need and valour — and he must not know that you give it!”

 

”I know”, Severus says curtly and approaches the portrait of Dumbledore and pulls it aside to reveal a hidden cavity behind it from which he pulls out the Sword of Gryffindor. ”I have a plan…”

 

The office dissolves and Harry is standing in the forest clearing next to the frozen pool. He looks around quickly, but can’t spot his memory self… He looks up into Severus face and realises the man is staring in horror at something, and following his line of sight Harry notices the air bubbles rising to the surface of the pool… _I’m already drowning,_ he thinks numbly. 

 

Severus swears loudly next to him and then runs over to pool, kicking off his boots and tearing the travel cloak from his shoulders before diving into the hole in the ice. After a couple of seconds, both Severus and the unconscious form of Harry himself emerges from the water… Harry tentatively takes a few steps closer as Severus heaves Memory Harry’s lifeless body onto the ground next to the pool and checks his pulse with shaking hands… 

 

He then pinches the boy’s nose and starts giving him mouth-to-mouth, ducking his head down to put his ears against his chest, listening for his heartbeat before breathing into his mouth once more… 

 

Memory Harry comes to with a jerk and starts coughing up water. Severus pounds him on the back and then proceeds to stroke him roughly over his shoulders. Harry can see his own spine through the pale skin, his shoulderblades protruding like some withered wings… 

 

 _God, I’m so skinny_ , he thinks. 

 

Used as he is to his muggle clothes hanging off him since they’re usually Dudley’s cast-offs, and not really in the habit of checking his own reflection on a regular basis, he hadn’t realised just how much weight he’d lost during all those hungry months…

 

Severus helps pull his clothes on, then drapes his own travel cloak around him like a blanket, before he starts bellowing about Harry being stupid. Harry really doesn’t need to hear that twice, but Severus obviously seemed to think he should… _he would_ , Harry thinks with a detached kind of wry amusement. 

 

”You kissed me”, the shaking boy says in a small voice, shutting Severus up and he stares down at the boy as though he’d just slapped him across the face.

 

The forest dissolves and once again, Harry is standing in the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts. Severus is pacing again, but it’s even more frantic than the previous times and he is clutching his hair and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, ”Stupid, stupid, stupid —!” 

 

He looks like a caged animal, and glancing at the many portraits on the walls around him, Harry thinks he is in a way.

 

”Why did I do that — why — should have known he’d remember — should have _obliviated_ him —”

 

”Yes”, the portrait of Dumbledore pipes up. ”Why _did_ you kiss the boy, Severus?”

 

” _I did not kiss him!_ ” Severus snarls and whirls around the scowl at the portrait who simply peers back at him calmly. ”I — _He_ kissed _me_ —!”

 

”And you didn’t kiss him back”, Dumbledore says gently. 

 

”That’s not — _no!_ — I simply — _he surprised me_ —!”

 

”Naturally”, the portrait of Dumbledore says. ”Perfectly understandable.”

 

” _Shut up!_ ” Severus snarls. 

 

”You know, he is of age now —”

 

” _I said shut up!_ ”

 

”Of course”, the portrait of Dumbledore says and then continues talking anyway. ”I’m merely suggesting that it wouldn’t be completely out of order if you _did_ harbour feelings for—”

 

”Oh no!” Severus says shrilly. ”Not out of order, you say? Well, aren’t I fortunate to have your blessing! Tell me, when should I confess my undying love for the boy, _before_ or _after_ I tell him he’s been raised for the slaughter like some innocent piglet —?”

 

The portrait of Dumbledore finally stays silent. Severus sinks into his chair with a choked whimper and hides his face in his hands. 

 

”I’d tell him before”, the portrait of Phineas Nigellus pipes up on the opposite wall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start shouting at me -- it's NOT OVER YET! 
> 
> Two chapters to go! The last of which is an epilogue (MY epilogue, definitely not Canon Epilogue Compliant!)


	28. The last enemy

Harry rises up out of the Pensive with a gasp and crumples to the floor. The familiar carpet under his hands is a small comfort as he gets his breathing under control, fragments of Severus’s memories whirling around inside his own mind… He’s run out of tears and he’s run out of feelings; he is numb and hollow, as if he’d been scraped out and emptied, just like he’d wished for on his way up to the Headmaster’s Office… 

 

He pushes himself up on shaky arms and sits in the middle of the circular office for a moment as he lets the truth sink in… _finally the truth_ … he stares back at the curious and wary faces of the portraits around him, and he finally understands. All those evenings he spent inside this office with Dumbledore last year, he’d thought he was learning the secrets of victory over Voldemort when in reality, he was never supposed to survive this war. 

 

For a moment, he wonders why a portrait of Severus hasn’t magically appeared next to the portrait of Dumbledore, but he is very grateful at the same time that there hasn’t… He doesn’t think he could stand seeing such indisputable proof. Not now.

 

He knows what he needs to do, and for some reason, as Severus’s dark, empty eyes flashes before him, he doesn’t feel frightened.

 

He was meant to dispose of Voldemort’s remaining links to life along the way, so that when the time comes and Voldemort raises his wand to end Harry’s life, and Harry will not do anything to stop him at all, but will let him finish what he started that night in Godric’s Hollow almost eighteen years ago… _neighter will live, because neither can survive…_ with all the Horcruxes destroyed, it will mean the end of Voldemort too.

 

Harry stands up and sways for a moment, then starts walking out of the office again. He moves as if in a dream, not really feeling the floor under his feet or the blood inside his own veins. He is numb, hollow, a ghost already… and soon, very soon, he will be dead —

 

His breathing seems to coil inside his lungs; it becomes an effort to push the air out of his throat and an even bigger effort to suck it back in. 

 

_I will be dead._

 

He forces one foot in front of the other. 

 

_I will be with Severus._

 

Whatever had constricted his airways loosens, and a surge of fresh air fills him up and he feels almost dizzy with it. 

 

_Yes. I’ll be with Severus. And my parents. And Sirius. It won’t be the end, not really…_

 

A nagging doubt flares up in his mind, but he pushes it aside. He isn’t sure he actually believes in an after-life, but he will focus on this possibility, this one comfort — or he might not be able to make it all the way to the Forest…

 

He has failed though: he never killed the snake — one Horcrux remains to bind Voldemort to the earth, even after Harry has been killed — _But that will only make it easier for someone else to finish the job_ , he thinks and wonders briefly who it will be, if it will be Ron or Hermione… That’s why Dumbledore had wanted him to confide in his two friends, so that if Harry fulfilled his true destiny a little early, they might carry on… _without me…_

 

Ron and Hermione feels so far away right now, as if he’s already parted with them a long time ago… There will be no goodbyes and no explanations, he’s determined of that. For the first time since he met his friends he has reached an adventure, a journey, that he must make without them. 

 

The corridors are still deserted. But Harry wishes he had his Invisibility Cloak all the same. He feels naked and vulnerable without it. 

 

He finally reaches the marble staircase leading to the Entrance Hall and descends it in a daze. He slips aside and hides in the shadows next to the doors as two figures emerges from the darkness outside, carrying a body between them. With a dull blow to the stomach, Harry realises that the lifeless body carried by the two others is Colin Creevey. Despite being under-age, he must have sneaked back to fight. 

 

”You know what? I can manage him on my own, Neville”, Oliver Wood says and heaves Colin’s tiny body over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and carries him into the Great Hall on his own. 

 

Neville leans back against the doorframe for a moment and wipes the sweat from his brow. He looks old and harrowed, Harry thinks. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and then disappears back outside in search of more bodies. 

 

Harry waits a few seconds, then follows him. It’s nearly four in the morning, and the grounds are deathly still as if holding their breath to see if Harry will do what needs to be done… Harry sees Neville bent over another body and in a moment of wild impulse, Harry walks up to him. 

 

”Neville—”

 

”Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure! Hang on, where are you going, alone?”

 

”It’s all part of the plan”, Harry assures him with a confidence he barely feels. ”There’s something I’ve got to do. Listen — Neville —”

 

”Harry”, Neville says, looking scared suddenly. ”You’re not — you’re not thinking of handing yourself over —?”

 

”Of course not”, he lies easily. ”This is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort’s snake, Neville? He’s got a huge snake, he calls it Nagini?”

 

”Y-Yeah?”

 

”It’s got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they —”

 

The awfulness of the possibility of Ron or Hermione being unable to go on grips Harry so suddenly that he almost chokes, but he pulls himself together again — this is crucial, and he must be like Dumbledore now, he must keep a cool head and make sure there are back-ups, others to carry on… Dumbledore had gone to his death knowing that three more people knew of the Horcruxes, and now Neville will take Harry’s place, there will still be three in on the secret… 

 

”Just in case they’re — busy — and you get the chance, you have to, it’s very important —”

 

”Kill the snake?”

 

”Kill the snake”, Harry repeats with a serious nod. 

 

”All right, Harry… You’re okay though, yeah?”

 

”I’m fine. Thanks, Neville —”

 

Harry starts to walk away again, but Neville seizes him by the wrist, ”We’re all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that, don’t you?”

 

”Yeah, I —”

 

The suffocating sensation comes back and chokes the end of his sentence. Neville doesn’t seem to find it strange though. He moves a little closer to Harry and claps him on the shoulder. Then turns back to the body he’d been about to lift. Harry doesn’t look down to see who it is. He has to go to the Forest right now, while there still is some resolve inside him. 

 

He hears a whimpering sniffle somewhere in the darkness, ”I want to go _home,_ I don’t want to fight anymore!”

 

”I know”, another voice says. ”It’s going to be all right, come on…”

 

Ripples of cold passes over Harry’s skin and he shivers. For a brief moment a scream starts thrashing around inside him like a wild animal struggling against the confines of a cage, desperate to break free from him, but he clamps his mouth shut and keeps it in… He finds himself not only sympathising with the anonymous girl, but agreeing with her whole-heartedly; _he too_ wants to go home — but then reality shakes him and he realises that he _is_ home… 

 

Hogwarts is the only home he has ever known, except for _Spinner’s End_ for half a summer; he and Voldemort and Severus, the abandoned boys, had all found _home_ here at Hogwarts… _it is only fitting_ , he thinks numbly, _that we should all meet our ends here as well…_

 

He keeps walking, until he reaches the edge of the Forest. A swarm of Dementors are gliding amongst the trees, he can feel their chill from where he is standing, and he hesitates… Despite finally having proof of Severus’s feelings for him, he knows he cannot summon enough joy to produce a Patronus now. _Because it’s too late. Severus is gone._

 

Part of Harry longs for the moment of death, for it all to be over… the pain, everything… 

 

But despite that, to get from here to that moment, even if it’s only a matter of minutes… just a small trek through the trees… it feels like a vast desert, an eternity of heartache and indescribable pain… 

 

It’s not so easy, after all, to die. 

 

Every breath that trickles into his lungs seem icy cold and at the same time precious, like he ought to savour each one, and when he tries to his lungs scream and ache. He releases his breath once more, feeling light-headed… 

 

It’s over, the Snitch has been caught, it is time to touch ground —

 

 _The snitch,_ he thinks suddenly. His numb fingers fumble with the pouch around his neck and he clumsily opens it, digging around inside until he finds it. 

 

_I open at the close._

 

Staring down at the glint of gold in his hands, he feels his heart hammering faster and faster. _This is the close. This is the moment._

 

He presses the golden metal to his lips and whispers, ”I am about to die…”

 

The metal shell breaks open. Harry points Draco’s wand at it and whispers ” _Lumos_ ”

 

Inside the two halves of the Snitch lies the small black stone with its jagged crack running down the centre of it. The Resurrection Stone has cracked right down the line representing the Elder Wand, but the triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone itself can still be discerned on either side. 

 

And with a rush of understanding, Harry knows why Dumbledore left him the Stone and why he’d made sure Harry wouldn’t be able to access it until this very moment; it won’t matter about bringing them back from death now, because he is about to join them. He isn’t really fetching them, _they_ are fetching _him_ …

 

Closing his eyes, he turns the stone over in his hand, three times. He knows it’s worked even before opening his eyes, because he can hear the faint rustle of movement all around him. 

 

They are neither ghosts or truly flesh, Harry sees. They resembles the memory of Riddle that had escaped from the diary, less substantial than living bodies but much more than ghosts. They move closer to him, all of them smiling lovingly… Harry lets his gaze travel from each of them, his heart speeding up further with every face… his father… Sirius… his mother… then nothing —

 

Relief and worry crash inside him, but he can’t let it distract him, not now… He’ll see Severus soon enough, anyway… 

 

He looks back to his mother and her smile widens further, ”You have been so brave.”

 

He feels a lump in his throat as he looks at her, the images from Severus’s memories flash before him, but again he forces himself to focus on the present. He looks at his father instead. James is the same height as Harry and wearing the same clothes he’d worn when he was killed. His hair is untidy, like Harry’s. His glasses a little lopsided. 

 

”You are nearly there, son”, he says softly. ”Very close. We are… so proud of you.”

 

”Does it hurt?” Harry whispers. 

 

”Dying?” Sirius says bracingly, beaming at him. ”Not at all. Quicker and easier than fallling asleep.”

 

A chilly breeze travels from the heart of the Forest and washes over Harry. He doesn’t want to go on, but he knows he must. They won’t tell him, he knows that. It needs to be his own decision. 

 

”Will you be able to stay with me?” he asks uncertainly, hopefully. 

 

”Until the very end”, James says. 

 

”And they won’t be able to see you?”

 

”We are a part of you”, Sirius says. ”Invisible to anyone else.”

 

Harry turns to look at his mother again, ”Stay close to me…”

 

Harry takes one final deep breath and starts walking into the Forest. The Dementors chill doesn’t seem to reach him anymore, somehow his invisible companions act as Patronuses, and together they make their way through the trees that grow more and more close together. Harry feels his robes snag on the undergrowth but keeps walking, sure that if he were to pause again he will never be able to bring himself to continue once more… He walks deeper and deeper into the Forest, not knowing where Voldemort is waiting for him but sure he’ll find him. 

 

Finally, Harry can see a light up ahead. In the small clearing that had once been the dwelling of Aragog, a fire has been lit and around it stands Voldemort and his Death Eaters, all waiting tensely, their ghostlike faces illuminated by the dancing glow of the fire. Harry notices Greyback amongst them, chewing his long nails, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, both looking defeated and terrified, all of their eyes are fixed on Voldemort, the only figure of the group who is standing absolutely stock still.

 

He stands with his head bowed, and his white hands folded around the Elder Wand in front of him, as if in prayer… _or like a child, counting in a game of hide-and-seek_ , Harry thinks with a sense of absurd humour. 

 

Like a halo behind Voldemort’s head, still swirling and coiling in her glittering, charmed cage, is the snake Nagini.

 

Suddenly Voldemort lifts his head — and there seems to be a collective intake of breath all around him — his red eyes seem to flare, and slowly he raises the Elder Wand. 

 

”My Lord —” Bellatrix says timidly from her place right next to him, but Voldemort raises his hand to silence her. 

 

She goes silent immediately, ducking her head in submission. She looks dishevelled but otherwise unharmed, Harry sees. _I wonder how many have died at her hands tonight…_

 

”I thought he would come”, Voldemort says in his high, clear voice. ”I expected him to come.”

 

Nobody speaks. Every single Death Eater, including Bellatrix, looks just as scared as Harry feels if not more so. Harry squeezes the wand tighter in his hand, then sticks it in a pocket inside his robes so that he won’t be tempted to use it. 

 

”I was, it seems… mistaken”, says Voldemort coldly.

 

”You weren’t”, Harry says as loudly as his voice will carry, glad to hear it doesn’t tremble or break. 

 

He lets the Resurrection Stone slip from his numb fingers and out of the corner of his eye he’s aware of his his parents and Sirius vanishing, but he doesn’t care anymore… He only cares about Voldemort, and getting this over with as swiftly and painfree as possible and then… then… 

 

Harry pushes the thought of Severus from his mind once more, and focuses on the red eyes of Voldemort. 

 

There are gasps and screams and even laughter from all sides, but Harry refuses to tear his eyes away from Voldemort. In his mind, there is only the two of them now…

 

”HARRY! NO!” Hagrid shouts from his right, and Harry glances over instinctively: the half-giant is bound and trussed to a tree that shakes as he starts to struggle. ”NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT’RE YOU—”

 

With a sudden flick of a wand, whose Harry didn’t have a chance to see, Hagrid is silenced… Harry remembers Severus doing the exact same thing to Uncle Vernon and finds himself smiling weakly. 

 

 _Not long now,_ he thinks. _Come on, Riddle, let’s get this show on the road…_

 

Voldemort tilts his head a little to the side, studying Harry with a mirthless smile, as tough he’d heard his thoughts. 

 

”Harry Potter”, he says softly. ”The boy who lived…”

 

None of the Death Eaters move or speak, they hardly breathe; they are all waiting, everything is waiting… Hagrid is struggling still, Harry sees in his peripheral, and Bellatrix breast is heaving with quick, eager panting breaths, and as Voldemort finally, finally, raises the Elder Wand and points it at Harry’s heart, Severus dark eyes flash through his mind… and Harry allows himself to remember the feel of the man’s thin, soft lips against his —

 

Voldemort opens his mouth and then there is a flash of green light —

 

 

*

 

 

Harry slowly becomes aware of his face pressed to the ground, as he listens to the silence. He is alone, there are nobody watching him, no-one else is here — he’s not even sure if he’s here himself — but after several moments, or it could have been hours, or maybe no time at all, it occurs to him that he must exist still, must be more than just a disembodied thought, because he is definitely lying on some sort of surface… so he clearly has a sense of touch still. 

 

And the surface that he touches from head to toe must exist as well. So he is definitely in a _place._  

 

 _The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_ , he thinks.

 

He is aware suddenly that he is naked, but since there is no-one else around, this concerns him very little. 

 

Slowly, he lifts his head and blinks his eyes open. He is lying in a bright mist through which vague shapes can be seen, like his surroundings are still taking form. The floor underneath him seems to be white as well, neither warm nor cold, it just is. 

 

He sits up and feels his body gingerly: he seems completely unscathed. He touches his face as well, his glasses are gone and so is his scar.

 

A noise reaches him through the still-forming ghostly surroundings and he looks around. It’s a pitiful noise, and at the same time indecent somehow… For the first time Harry wishes he had some clothes on, and as soon as the thought has entered his head, a set of robes materialises next to him. He pulls them on, then stands up carefully and walks in the direction of the noise. 

 

Looking around, a doomed glass roof takes shape over his head and he wonders if maybe he’s in a palace of some sort. 

 

The noise breaks through his musings again and he searches for the source of it, cringing slightly when he finally sees it: a small, naked child lies curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, almost flayed-looking, underneath a bench where its been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath…

 

It’s a pitiful, helpless thing… and yet, small and fragile and mortally wounded though it appears to be, Harry feels a surge of fear as he gazes at it. He approaches it slowly, cautiously, ready to jump back at any moment, but nothing happens. The little creature continues to wail and wheeze. 

 

Harry looks at it, feeling horrible for not reaching out to hold it, to comfort it somehow, but he can’t bring himself to. The very thought of touching it repulses him, and he feels awful.

 

”You cannot help”, someone says behind him and he spins around: Albus Dumbledore comes striding towards him wearing midnight-blue robes and beaming. ”Harry… my dear boy…”

 

Harry feels his heart flutter, at once relieved to see his mentor again and disappointed. 

 

”Ah”, Dumbledore says and smiles kindly at him. ”You were expecting someone else…”

 

”No”, Harry lies. 

 

”Harry”, Dumbledore says softly. ”Come, let us talk…”

 

Harry follows the other man to another bench that has appeared out of nowhere and sits down next to him, eyeing him closely, ”You’re dead.”

 

”Ah, yes”, Dumbledore agrees readily and nods. 

 

”So does that mean… I’m dead, as well?”

 

”Well”, Dumbledore says and smiles even wider, his eyes twinkling. ”That’s the question, isn’t it… But on the whole, I’d say not.”

 

”Not?” Harry repeats curiously. 

 

”Not”, Dumbledore says and nods once more. 

 

”But… I should have died, I didn’t even defend myself! I meant to let him kill me!”

 

”And that”, Dumbledore says. ”Will, I think, have made all the difference.”

 

Harry watches the old man twiddle his thumbs and smile more broadly, feeling a sense of confusion mixed with annoyance… Is the man incapable of giving straight answers? _But no_ , Harry thinks. _He gave Severus straight answers, eventually, so no… it’s just me, he never tells_ me _the full truth…_

 

At Harry’s frown, Dumbledore’s happiness finally seems to fade slightly. 

 

”Explain”, Harry says curtly. 

 

”You already know the answer —”

 

”Explain!” Harry repeats angrily. 

 

”All right, my dear boy…” Dumbledore murmurs. ”The part of Voldemort’s soul that had latched onto yours — that was the part of you that got killed tonight… He destroyed it. Your soul is whole and completely your own, Harry…”

 

The wheezing, wailing noise seems to grow in strength and Harry glances over at the small, maimed creature with a sense of foreboding. 

 

”What is that thing?”

 

”Something that is beyond either of our help”, Dumbledore says seriously.

 

”Okay — but if Voldemort used the Killing Curse, and nobody died for me this time, how can I still be alive?”

 

”You know the answer to this as well, Harry. Think back. Think what he did in his ignorance and greed…”

 

”He took my blood”, Harry says finally. 

 

”Precisely!” Dumbledore says. ”He took your blood and rebuilt his living body with it! Your blood runs in his veins, Harry, so Lily’s protection lives on in both of you! He has tethered you to life as long as he lives!”

 

”Wait…” Harry says, feeling a headache start to flare up. ”I live — while he lives? But I thought it was the other way round! That we both had to die? Or is it the same thing?”

 

”You were the seventh Horcrux, Harry. The one he never meant to make… and he never knew! That which Voldemort does not value, he never bothers to comprehend. So he knows nothing of house-elves or children’s tales, of love, and loyalty, and innocense… Voldemort knows and understands nothing, Harry, _nothing_ … He took your blood believing it would strengthen him, but what he took into his body was a tiny part of the enchantment that your mother laid upon you when she died for you. His very body keeps her sacrifice alive, and while that enchantment survives, so do you…”

 

”And you knew this? You knew all along?”

 

”I guessed”, Dumbledore says modestly, his eyes twinkling again. 

 

”He killed me with your wand”, Harry says suddenly, remembering the Elder Wand gripped loosely in Voldemort’s hand. 

 

”He _failed_ to kill you with my wand”, Dumbledore corrects gently. ”I think we have established that you are not, in fact, dead… although I don’t mean to minimise your suffering, which I am sure, has been great.”

 

”I feel fine now, though”, Harry says, looking down at his unblemished hands. ”Where are we exactly, anyway?”

 

”I was going to ask you the same thing”, Dumbledore says conversely. ”Where would you say we are?”

 

Until Dumbledore asked, Harry had had no idea but now, however, he realises that he _does_ know. 

 

”It looks like King’s Cross, except a lot cleaner, and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see…”

 

”King’s Cross station!” Dumbledore exclaims and chuckles. ”Good gracious, really…”

 

”Well, where do _you_ think we are then?” Harry fires back a little defensively. 

 

”My dear boy, I have no idea… This is, as they say, _your_ party.”

 

Harry doesn’t understand what that’s supposed to mean; Dumbledore is being infuriating again, and Harry glares at him. Then, he remembers something else that he’d wanted to ask him about: the Deathly Hallows — but even as he thinks this, Harry realises that he doesn’t actually care anymore. He was so ready for it all to be over, and now he feels too tired to care about anything else again…

 

”Why did you make it so difficult?” he asks off-handedly, not really expecting a straight answer. 

 

But as always, Dumbledore surprises him and gives him one for once, ”I’m afraid I was counting on Miss Granger to slow you down a bit, Harry… I was worried that your hot head might dominate your good heart, and that if you learned of the Hallows too soon you might have seized them, as I did, at the wrong time and for the wrong reasons… You are now the true master of death, Harry, because the true master of death does not seek to run away from Death, but accepts that he must die and understands also that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.”

 

”If you planned your death with Se- Snape —”

 

” _Professor_ Snape, Harry.”

 

”You meant for him to end up with the Elder Wand, didn’t you? But you never told him.”

 

”Yes”, Dumbledore sighs. ”I admit, that was my intention… But it did not work out as I had intended, did it?”

 

”No”, Harry says, trying to feel cold towards the other man but not really managing. ”That bit didn’t work out.”

 

They sit in silence for the longest time. The creature keeps making its horrible noises, but Harry finds it easier and easier to block them out. 

 

Then, the realisation of what must happen next, settles over Harry like a smothering blanket and for a second he struggles to breathe through it. 

 

”I’ve got to go back, haven’t I?”

 

”That is up to you”, Dumbledore says. 

 

”I’ve got a choice?” Harry says, not really believing it. 

 

”Oh yes”, Dumbledore says anyway. ”We’re in King’s Cross station, you say? Well, I think, that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to… let’s say… board a train.”

 

”A train? And where would it take me?”

 

”On”, Dumbledore says simply and shrugs. 

 

For a moment Harry thinks of Severus and painful longing squeezes his heart. He feels so exhausted, so done with all of it… He had thought it would be over, he had walked into that clearing believing it would be the last thing he would ever have to do… He had spent his last ounce of strength on that last step — that last moment of holding himself up, maintaining the eye contact with Voldemort — 

 

”Would — would he be there?” Harry asks, his voice a bit more strangled than he would have liked but Dumbledore is kind enough to pretend not to have noticed. ”If I go on, will I see him again?”

 

”That I cannot say”, Dumbledore says and looks away. 

 

”When I used the Resurrection Stone… He… He didn’t show up —” 

 

Harry swallows down the rest of whatever he’d meant to say, the lump in his throat growing and he feels his eyes prick with tears. Severus didn’t come to him in his moment of need, like his parents and Sirius, he didn’t come to support him, to tell him he loves him and that he’s proud of him… _Maybe he doesn’t, maybe he isn’t…_  

 

”Harry”, Dumbledore says quietly. ”There is another explanation…”

 

”W-What —?” he gasps thickly, as a couple of tears break free and run down his face. ”What explanation?”

 

”You know the an—”

 

”—Stop it! _Just tell me!_ ”

 

Dumbledore simply gazes at him steadily, refusing to speak. 

 

 _What?_ Harry thinks. _What other possible explanation could there be for Severus refusing to come back from the dead to see me, to support me, to accompany me —?_

 

He suddenly remembers the absence of a portrait in the Headmaster’s Office; he remembers Severus half-shut eyes, dull with exhaustion but not exactly empty, not yet… He feels a pressure over his chest and gasps. It’s too much.

 

_Severus — not dead?_

 

But no, that tiny flicker of hope is too cruel, much too cruel…

 

”I think, if you choose to return, Harry… you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart, and maybe… _maybe_ … our friend will be saved, as well…”

 

Harry stares into the old man’s eyes for a long moment. They don’t twinkle anymore, but there is a sheen in them that tells Harry he at least means well. But the thought of returning… to pain, and the fear of more loss… of disappointment and grief beyond belief… Walking into the Forest had been easier than this.  

 

”Tell me one last thing”, Harry demands. ”Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”

 

Dumbledore smiles at him once more, and the bright mist rises around them, obscuring him more and more from Harry’s view. 

 

”Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry… but why on earth should that mean that is is not real?”

 

 

*

 

 

Harry slowly becomes aware of his face pressed to the ground again and is struck by a sense of deja vu, but this time, the smells of the forest and the fire also fills his nostrils, and pain travels through his body in shock waves. The place on his chest where the Killing Curse had hit him feels like the throbbing bruise of an iron-clad punch. 

 

He does not stir, but listens intently; there are no cheers of triumph like he would have expected… instead there are hurried footsteps, whispers and murmurs… 

 

”My Lord… _my Lord_ …” Bellatrix Lestrange’s worried voice filters over to Harry over the roar of the fire, but he does not dare open his eyes. 

 

He can feel his wand pressed between his chest and the ground. Can he risk it —?

 

”My Lord…”

 

”That will do”, Voldemort’s cold voice hisses. 

 

More hurried footsteps. Desperate to see what’s going on, Harry risks opening his eyes by a millimetre. 

 

Voldemort seems to be getting to his feet, and various Death Eaters are backing away from him. Bellatrix alone remains kneeling at his side. 

 

Harry quickly lets his eyes slide shut again, processing what he’s just seen. The Death Eaters had all been huddled around Voldemort, who seemed to have fallen to the ground. Had he too collapsed after firing the Killing Curse at Harry? Had he been out cold as well? 

 

The tiny, pitiful creature from King’s Cross station springs to Harry’s mind and he feels a sickening jolt.

 

”My Lord, let me —”

 

”I do not require assistance”, he says coldly. ”The boy… is he dead?”

 

Complete silence. Nobody approaching him. 

 

”You”, Voldemort snaps and there is a _bang_ followed by a woman’s cry of pain. ”Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead.”

 

Harry remains still, while his heart hammers traitorously in his chest, waiting with bated breath for the person to approach him and feel his pulse and _know_ … 

 

A soft, trembling hand touches his face suddenly, then creeps down his shirt… resting for a moment against his beating heart… 

 

Then long hair tickles his face as she leans down further… 

 

” _Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?_ ” Narcissa Malfoy whispers urgently, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. 

 

” _Yes_ ”, Harry breathes back.

 

The hand on his chest clenches over his heart, her long nails scratching his skin. Then it withdraws and the hair leaves his face as she sits up. 

 

”He is dead!”

 

Now they start shouting and cheering, clapping their hands and stamping their feet, and through his eyelids Harry can see bursts of red and silver light shooting into the air in celebration. 

 

Still feigning death on the ground, Harry finally understands. Narcissa must have known that the only way for her to go into Hogwarts and find her son, is as part of the conquering army. She no longer cares whether Voldemort wins. She only wants her son back. 

 

”You see!” Voldemort screeches triumphantly over the tumult. ”Harry Potter is dead by my hands, no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! _Crucio!_ ”

 

Harry was expecting it, he had known that his body would not be left unsullied — it must be subjected to humiliation to prove Voldemort’s victory — and he forces himself to remain limp and relaxed as his body is lifted into the air… but the pain that he’d expected never comes. He is thrown three more times into the air, his glasses falling off his face and the wand slipping from his pocket, but he feels no pain at all… when he finally falls to the ground for the last time, the clearing fills with jeers and shrieks of laughter. 

 

”Now”, Voldemort says. ”Wo go to the castle and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No — wait —”

 

There is a fresh outburst of laughter from the Death Eaters. 

 

”You can carry him”, Voldemort says and Harry feels the ground tremble as heavy footsteps approach him. ”Go on, pick up your little friend, Hagrid… and the glasses, put on the glasses — he must be recognisable, after all —!”

 

Harry feels his glasses slam back onto his face with painful force, but the large hands that lift him from the ground are gentle. Harry shakes in Hargid’s hands as the half-giant tremble with sobs, his tears drip from his face and splashes onto Harry’s… 

 

”Move”, Voldemort says. 

 

Hagrid stumbles forward, cradling Harry’s lifeless body to his chest and sobbing quietly. The victorious procession forces its way through the close-growing trees until finally they reach the edge of the Forest and light of dawn settles over them. 

 

”Stop”, Voldemort says and Hagrid stumbles to a halt. 

 

Someone passes close by to Hagrid and Harry, and Harry holds his breath. He realises it is Voldemort himself when he speaks again, and this time his voice is magically magnified to ring out across the grounds and reach the people inside the castle. 

 

”Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save his himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone… The battle is won. You have already lost half your fighters and my Death Eaters out-number you. The Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. But anyone who continues to resist, be it man, woman or child, will be slaughtered along with their entire family… Come out of the castle now, and kneel before me, and you will however be spared… Your parents, brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven. And you will join me in the new world that we shall build together.”

 

And then they’re walking again. Harry dares to open his eyes a slit and sees Voldemort striding in front of them, leading the way to the castle. Nagini is lying around his shoulders, free of her magical cage once more… if only Harry had his wand… 

 

They come to a halt once more, and Harry sees the warm light spilling out of the open doors to the Entrance Hall through the flesh of his eyelids. 

 

”NO!” 

 

The scream is even more terrible to Harry because he had never expected that such a broken sound could ever come from Professor McGonagall. He can hear Bellatrix laughing close by. Harry squints his eyes open just a fraction and sees the doorway and the front steps of the castle fill up with all the survivors, their shocked and pained shouts mixing with the jeers from the Death Eaters. 

 

Then amongst the grief-stricken exclamations, insults and threats can be heard instead and Harry’s chest swells as he can make out the voices of the Weasley twins, and Percy, and Ron and Hermione. 

 

”SILENCE!” Voldemort screams. ”It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet where he belongs…”

 

Harry feels himself lowered to the ground carefully and forces himself to remain limp. 

 

”You see?” Voldemort says savagely. ”Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”

 

”He beat you!” Ron bellows back, and that seems to trigger the others who immediately start shouting and screaming again defiantly. 

 

There is a resounding _bang_ as Voldemort casts a spell that renders them all silent. 

 

”He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself —”

 

But Voldemort breaks off and Harry can hear a scuffle and shout, then another _bang_ and a flash of light; there’s a grunt of pain and when he carefully squints his eyes open this time, he can see that someone has broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort, but is now collapsed on the ground, Disarmed. Voldemort tosses the defyer’s wand aside and it lands with a clatter half a metre away from Harry… 

 

”And who is this?” Voldemort says and takes a step closer to his crumpled form. ”Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?”

 

Bellatrix shrieks with laughter, ”It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows such trouble! The son of the Aurors Longbottom, remember?”

 

”Ah, yes, I remember…” Voldemort says softly as he advances on Neville, who is now struggling to his feet, unarmed and unprotected. ”But you are a pureblood, aren’t you, my brave boy?”

 

”So what if I am?” Neville says loudly, his voice clear and unwavering.

 

”You show spirit, and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom…”

 

”I’ll join you when Hell freezes over”, Neville says. ” _Dumbledore’s Army!_ ”

 

There is an answering cheer from the crowd that Voldemort’s silencing charm seems unable to contain. 

 

”Very well”, Voldemort says coldly. ”If that is your choice, Longbottom… On your head… be it…”

 

Still watching through his lashes, Harry sees Voldemort wave his wand and something crashes out of a window in the castle and flies into his hand. He shakes it out: it’s the Sorting Hat. 

 

”There will be no more Sortings at Hogwarts! There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor Salazar Slytherin will suffice for everyone, or what do you say, Neville Longbottom?”

 

He points his wand at Neville, who becomes rigid and still, and taking the last remaining steps between himself and Neville, Voldemort forces the hat onto the boy’s head and then steps back again. He points the wand at him once more and in the next second, the Sorting Hat is set ablaze. 

 

 _No_ , Harry thinks, _I have to do something_ —

 

But then several things happen at once: Grawp comes lumbering out from behind the castle, shouting for Hagrid; an uproar of war cries and hooves can be heard from the Forest behind them and the scattering footsteps of the Death Eaters breaking ranks as arrows are fired into their midst; and Neville breaks free of the Body-Binding Curse in one swift, fluid movement and pulls the still burning hat off his head, and from inside it he pulls something shiny —

 

The slash of the silver blade cannot be heard over the stampeding centaurs or the roar of the crowd, yet every single eye seems drawn to the movement, and Harry lets his eyes fly all the way open for the first time: 

 

With a single stroke, that seems at first to have been aimed at Voldemort but missing him by inches, Neville slices off the great snake’s head. Voldemort’s mouth is open in a scream of fury that nobody can hear, as the snake’s body falls off his shoulders and thuds to the ground at his feet. 

 

Harry quickly reaches out his hand for Neville’s wand and grabs it, he casts a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort before the latter has shaken himself out of his shock and raised his wand once more. 

 

Then he stands up on shaky legs and squares his shoulders, pointing the wand at Voldemort. It takes several seconds before anyone has registered it, but once the first startled gasp erupts from the crowd, it has a domino effect on the rest. Shouts of triumph and disbelief mingle together. Voldemort stands frozen on the spot and stares at Harry, who resolutely stares back — pleased to see a hint of fear in the red eyes… 

 

The cheers and screams on either side are stifled at once, as Voldemort and Harry stays in their eye-lock, then slowly start to circle each other… 

 

”No-one else try to help!” Harry shouts clearly. ”It’s got to be me.”

 

”Potter doesn’t mean that”, Voldemort hisses. ”That’s not how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?”

 

”Nobody”, Harry says simply. ”There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…”

 

”One of us”, Voldemort jeers. ”And you think it will be me, do you? The boy who lived by accident and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings…”

 

”Accident was it?” Harry says. ”That my mum died to save me? Accident that I chose to fight in that graveyard? Accident that I didn’t even defend myself tonight and still survived, and returned to fight again?”

 

” _Accidents!_ ” Voldemort says shrilly, but there is a glint of panic in his eyes now. ”Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and snivelled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!”

 

”You won’t be killing anyone else tonight”, Harry vows as they continue to circle each other. ”You won’t be able to kill any of them ever again. Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you hurting these people —”

 

” _But you didn’t die!_ ”

 

”— but I meant to. I’ve done exactly what my mother did. They’re protected from you now. You can’t torture them, you can’t kill them… you don’t learn from your mistakes, do you, Riddle?”

 

” _You dare —_ ”

 

”Yes, I dare”, Harry says firmly. ”I know things you don’t know, Tom Riddle —”

 

”Is it love again?” Voldemort spits in disgust. ”Dumbledore’s favourite solution, _love_ , which he claimed conquered death, though _love_ did not stop him falling to his death from the tower, did it? _Love_ did not stop his body from breaking like an old waxwork? Just as _love_ did not stop me from stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter — and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse, so what will stop you from dying now when I strike?”

 

”Just one thing”, Harry says calmly. 

 

”If it is not love that will save you this time… you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?”

 

”I believe both”, Harry says and for a moment shock flits across the snake-like face staring into his, but it is instantly dispelled as Voldemort begins to laugh — it is a horrible sound, cold and humourless. 

 

”You think you know more magic than I do? Than _I_ , than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?”

 

”Oh he dreamed of it, but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you’ve done—”

 

”You mean he was weak! Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, and will be mine! I brought about the death of your precious Albus Dumbledore! He is dead because I willed it so!”

 

”You thought so, but you were wrong”, Harry says. 

 

” _Dumbledore is dead_!”

 

”Yes, he is dead. But you didn’t have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant… You see, Severus Snape wasn’t yours. He was Dumbledore’s. And he was _mine —_ ” finally Harry’s voice breaks, but it doesn’t matter, Voldemort is so shocked and frightened now that he hasn’t even noticed. 

 

”It matters not!” Voldemort shrieks. ”It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore’s, or what petty obstacles they might have put in my path, I crushed them all as I crushed your mother, Potter and _as I crushed Snape_ — oh, but it all makes sense now, and in a way you don’t understand, Potter! — Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended for Snape to be its master, but I got there ahead of you, little boy, you see I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it and I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine now! Dumbledore’s plan went wrong, Harry Potter!”

 

 ”Yeah, it did”, Harry says. ”You’re right. But before you try to kill me, I advise you to think about what you’ve done… think, and try for remorse, Riddle…”

 

”What is this?” Voldemort says, more shocked by these words than anything else Harry has been telling him, and Harry saw his pupils contract to thin slits, saw the skin around his red eyes whiten. 

 

”It’s your last chance”, Harry says. ”It’s all you’ve got left… I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise…”

 

”You dare —?”

 

”Yes, I dare. Because Dumbledore’s last plan hasn’t backfired on me at all. It’s backfired on you, Riddle… That wand still isn’t working properly for you, because Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore… Dumbledore’s death was planned between them. Dumbledore intended to die undeafeted, the wand’s last true master, but the Elder Wand recognised a new master before Dumbledore died… Someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realising what he’d done…”

 

Voldemort’s chest is heaving with laboured breaths, and Harry can see the curse building inside him, see the point if the Elder Wand twitching slightly as it points against his own chest. 

 

”The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy”, Harry says. 

 

Blank shock flickers onto Voldemort’s face for a moment, but then it’s gone again. 

 

”But what does it matter?” he says softly. ”Even if you are right, Potter it makes no difference to you and me… we will duel on skill alone, and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…”

 

”But you’re too late… You missed your chance, I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago and took his wand from him. Question is, does the wand in your hand know its master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand.”

 

 _I hope I’m right,_ Harry thinks faintly — but remembering how Voldemort’s Cruciatus Curse had not managed to cause him any pain, he knows he is…

 

Voldemort draws a sudden breath and Harry sees him open his mouth —

 

” _Avada Kedavra!_ ” / ” _Expelliarmus!_ ”

 

The _bang_ is like a cannon-blast, Harry sees Voldemort’s green jet meet his own red, like a mirror to their eye-lock, and then the Elder Wand goes flying out of Voldemort’s hand and spins high in the air between them before falling towards Harry — who catches it — 

 

Voldemort falls backwards, his arms splayed helplessly and the slit pupils of his scarlet eyes rolling back into his head. He hits the ground with a thump and stays motionless, his body seeming suddenly small and shrunken… his snake-like face vacant… 

 

Harry’s heart skips a beat: _Voldemort’s is dead…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's almost over! I feel like this fic has been such a huge part of my life recently, I'll miss writing it... and I'll miss you guys's lovely comments whenever I post a new chapter, they always do make my day! 
> 
> Ah well, it's not over QUITE YET!


	29. The Epilogue

Harry is floating in and out of a fractured, confused dream, hovering somewhere between sleep and full consciousness as if he’s in some kind of limbo; he is steadily becoming aware of the uncomfortable chair he’s sitting in, the crick in his neck from falling asleep in it in the first place, the scratchy texture of the hospital blanket against his cheek where it’s resting against the comatose man’s chest… As more of the dream slips away from him, he becomes aware of said chest rising and falling slowly under him as the man continues to breathe shallowly… and long, slender fingers twitching against his own… _wait…_

 

Harry blinks his eyes open and actually wills the last traces of the dream to vanish. He gently squeezes Severus’s lifeless hand in his, unconsciously holding his breath as he waits…

 

The fingers twitch again. 

 

Harry sits up with such force something in his lower back snaps threateningly, reminding him of his own aching body, but he barely even notices. Almost knocking his glasses off as he thrusts his free hand into his face and roughly rubs the sleep from his eyes, Harry blinks down at Severus’s face. 

 

It looks just as pale and sallow as it did yesterday, and the day before, and the week before that… _But wait…_  

 

Harry leans in closer and stares intently at the sleeping man’s eyes, and there it is — _movement under his eyelids!_ — Harry doesn’t know what it means, if the man is any closer to waking up out of his coma or if he’s just started to dream, but hope flares inside his chest like he hasn’t felt in… in… he can’t even remember the last time he felt it, perhaps when he saw Severus’s doe in the Forest of Dean… _but it doesn’t matter_ , he thinks. 

 

” _Augustus!_ ” he calls out for the medi-wizard in charge of Severus’s healing. ”AUGUSTUS!”

 

Augustus Pye comes running into the room, looking ruffled and startled. 

 

”I think — I think — something”, Harry babbles urgently. ”I felt — his hand — and look at his eyes! _Look!_ ”

 

Upon seeing that there was no immediate danger or that his patient had somehow got worse, Augustus Pye swallows a sigh and plasters an indulgent smile onto his face and walks up to Severus’s bed and places a comforting hand on top of Harry’s shoulder. He isn’t even looking at Severus, Harry notices and bristles.

 

”I’m not — just — _look at face!_ ”

 

The medi-wizard turns to glance indulgently at Severus, then does a dramatic double-take that even startles Harry. 

 

”What? What? _Severus_ —!” Harry jumps to his feet and clutches the man’s hand tighter in his, his heart leaping into his throat as he stares down at the man’s face from which a pair of dark eyes are now staring back. ”Oh my God, oh my God, Severus, I can’t believe —!”

 

A small sigh escapes Severus and Harry swallows down the rest of his sentence with a hitched gasp, then immediately lowers his voice into a gentle whisper, ”I’m so sorry, Severus… I didn’t mean to… must be a shock… how are you feeling?”

 

”Better now that you’ve stopped shouting in my ear”, the man rasps, his voice weak and raw from disuse, but there’s a distinct twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

 

Harry lets out a half-choked chuckle that comes out sounding more like a sob, and before he knows it, tears have welled up in his eyes, but he doesn’t care — _Severus is alive! And he’s awake!_

 

He throws himself against the other man and hugs him, then peppers his face with kisses, vaguely aware of the man flinching slightly, but he doesn’t care about that either. 

 

During the weeks that Harry has sat at the man’s bedside and in those few and far-between moments when he’d allowed himself to hope and play with the idea of Severus actually pulling through, which would have been a miracle in itself, Harry has also been aware that it would require a second miracle to convince him that Harry actually, genuinely loves him… But he has been practising a speech for just this occasion and even if it will take him a lifetime, Harry _will_ convince Severus that they belong together.

 

Severus’s breath hitches in pain, and Harry realises too late that he’s been clutching the man a little too tightly. 

 

”Mr Potter —!” Augustus Pye admonishes sternly, and tries to shove Harry aside. 

 

Harry moves enough to allow the medi-wizard access to Severus, but refuses to let the man’s hand go. Severus’s eyes follow him curiously, but he says nothing. His fingers twitch a little in Harry’s hand again. 

 

”I will need to do a full diagnostic spell”, Augustus Pye insists, frowning at Harry. 

 

”Go ahead, I’m not stopping you”, Harry says and stares back defiantly. 

 

Augustus Pye splutters a little, but when Harry refuses to back down he huffs out an annoyed sigh and proceeeds with Harry squeezed into the tiny space left between the medi-wizard, the bed and the wall, arm bent at at awkward angle in order to keep clutching Severus’s hand. 

 

Glancing over at Severus’s face, Harry catches the tail-end of what is definitely an amused twitch of lips before the bedridden man looks away quickly and goes back to frowning at the medi-wizard between them. 

 

”Well”, Augustus says finally and straightens up with a sigh several minutes later. ”Mr Snape —”

 

” _Professor_ Snape”, Harry corrects automatically, and immediately feels his face flush when both men turn in surprise to stare at him. ”… Just… saying…”

 

”Ahem, yes, quite”, Augustus mumbles. ”Professor Snape, you appear to be healing correctly, there is still a fair amount of residual poision in your system, a lot more than I would like after seven weeks, but now that you are out of your coma it should be easier to deal with that…”

 

”He’s going to be fine though, right?” Harry says hopefully. ”He’ll be okay now, definitely healed and everything?”

 

” _Yes_ , Mr Potter”, Augustus says in a rather long-suffering tone. ”He will be fine.”

 

”Well, _say that_ then”, Harry mutters a little defesively and glances at Severus again, pleasantly surprised to see a small smile on the man’s face that he doesn’t even bother to hide when he’s caught this time, which makes Harry beam back at him. 

 

”Maybe now you will adhere to the visiting hours—?” Augustus starts to say, but cuts himself off when Harry shoots him a glare. ”Mr Potter, I really think that—”

 

”Don’t even start”, Harry says promptly. ”I’m not telling you again.”

 

”But now that Mr — Professor — Snape is awake, surely you could—?”

 

”Am I in your way?” Harry demands and when Augustus Pye merely rolls his eyes and then shakes his head, he continues. ”Well then, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

”Fine”, Augustus mutters and leaves the room.

 

”He likes me really”, Harry tells Severus. ”We’ve got to know each other quite well over the weeks. He just likes to molly-coddle me…”

 

”I see”, Severus rasps out. 

 

”Here…” Harry fumbles with his wand for a second, then conjures up a goblet with water that he gently holds up to the man’s lips. 

 

Severus lifts his head carefully and drinks a little water, then proceeds to cough most of it up again, but when he speaks his voice sounds a little less raw, ”Thank you, Mr Potter…”

 

”Oh don’t even”, Harry snaps good-naturedly. ”I don’t care where we are and who’s listening in, from now on I’m Harry — _just Harry_ — got it?”

 

Severus’s lips twitch again, but he gives Harry a tired nod. 

 

”Good…” Harry adds, not caring that he sounds ridiculously relieved. ” _Severus._ ”

 

The other man’s dark eyes flicker up to meet his green ones, and there’s a question in there, Harry is sure, but he has no idea what it is… 

 

”I should let Hermione know you’re awake”, he says instead. ”She’s been here almost as much as me…”

 

”To molly-coddle as well?” Severus guesses.

 

”Yeah, well, a little… But she’s been concerned about you, as well…”

 

”I’m sure…”

 

Harry picks his wand up again and mutters, ” _Expecto Patronum_ ”

 

The small doe that jumps out of the tip of his wand skips around the room once, then sidles up to Harry and turns its’ silvery eyes on him. Harry gives it the message and sends it on its’ way. With a flutter in his belly, he turns back to Severus again. The man looks wide awake for the first time, and Harry feels his heartbeat speed up… He gives the man a nervous smile, ”What?”

 

”Harry… Did your Patronus… lose its’ antlers?”

 

”Yeah — um — sort of?” Harry says and feels his face flush again. 

 

Severus’s eyes seem to reach into Harry’s mind, and Harry lets them. He has nothing to hide anymore, not from Severus. 

 

”I see…” the man says finally. 

 

”Yeah…” Harry mumbles, then swallows thickly and takes a deep, steeling breath. ”Severus… That night — in the tent — it wasn’t a dream, was it?”

 

The dark eyes flit between his own for a moment, searching, deliberating… Then he shakes his head once. 

 

”I knew it”, Harry breathes out. ”But how?”

 

”How did I find you?” Severus says. 

 

”No. How did you get in? The Protective Enchantments…”

 

”—allowed me in… I was as surprised as you.”

 

Harry thinks back, ”I cast them”, he says, realising. ”That was the only time — Hermione was crying about Ron, so I did them… I must have done something wrong…”

 

Severus shakes his head again, ”The shields were intact. But they granted _me_ entry… clearly your magic could sense my intentions, even if you were as of yet unaware…”

 

Harry stares at him silently, then allows himself to smile shyly, ”I love magic…”

 

Severus snorts softly, and his eyelids flutter tiredly but there’s definitely a small smile playing on his lips as well. 

 

”Severus…” Harry whispers, gripped suddenly by a fear that if the man falls asleep now he might slip back into his coma, he might never wake again, and Harry hasn’t even told him — any of it — his speech, his declaration of love —

 

Severus hums a little in affirmative, even as his eyes slide shut. 

 

”I…”

 

”Mm…” Severus hums again, his fingers twitching against Harry’s. ”I know…”

 

Harry holds his breath as the man slips back into sleep, only releasing it when Hermione comes thundering into the room a moment later. 

 

”Harry! What—? Oh! — Oh, hang on, give me a — a moment —” 

 

The girl doubles over and presses a hand to her side as she catches her breath. 

 

A moment later, Ron bursts through the doors behind her, also panting, ”What happened —?”

 

”Severus”, Harry says. ”He woke up! I just — he’s sleeping now, but — he was awake, I talked to him, we talked for like — minutes!”

 

”Oh Harry…” Hermione says and runs up and embraces him. ”I’m so happy for you —!”

 

”For _me_ —?”

 

”Well, for both of you!” 

 

”So did you… you know…?” Ron says warily. 

 

”I didn’t give him the speech”, Harry admits sheepishly. 

 

”Mate”, Ron says with a relieved look. ”I’m telling you —”

 

”I know, I know”, Harry mutters.

 

He _does_ know what Ron, who has been the unwilling recipient of said speech on a number of occasions as Harry has been practising, thinks about the whole thing. Harry has ignored his protests until now, sure that Severus Snape, master of giving impressive speeches himself, would really appreciate receiving one… But as it turns out, when Harry finally had the chance to deliver it, he couldn’t… _I guess I’m not the speech type_ , Harry thinks. 

 

Ron gives him a knowing look and grins. Harry barely resists sticking his tongue out, and simply rolls his eyes. 

 

 

*

 

 

”What happens now…” Severus murmurs next time he wakes up, peering at Harry through the corner of his eye but not meeting his gaze full-on and Harry’s stomach flutters as he imagines why, imagines Severus being nervous… _stoic, composed Severus Snape nervous… because of me…_ Harry smiles a little to himself. 

 

”Well, you were exonerated while you were still in your coma. I’d imagine the Ministry would like to see you at some point, probably present you with an Order of Merlin… But other than that, it’s all over. Voldemort’s dead and you’re a free man.”

 

Something like relief flickers in Severus’s eyes, then he frowns again. 

 

”I meant with you”, he grumbles. 

 

”Oh, well, I’ll need to sit my NEWTS at some point, I suppose. Hermione won’t shut up about it, so sooner rather than later… Ron and I always talked about going through Auror Training together, but I don’t really fancy being an auror anymore, you know? I think — I think I’d like to be a teacher.”

 

Severus draws in a deep breath, his eyes closing as if in pain and then he releases a long-suffering sigh. Harry frowns at him, even as a small, fond part of him thinks _drama queen_ …

 

”Do you mean to tell me…” Severus says slowly, his eyes fluttering open once more to fix Harry with a stern gaze. ”That after years — _decades_ — of having been forced to teach the delicate art of potions to hords of blundering dunderheads bursting with hormones… now that I am finally free to actually choose what to do with my life, something that I never _ever_ dared hope for… you mean to shackle me to Hogwarts once more?”

 

Harry’s frown deepens, ”Of course not! I would never — I only said —!”

 

”Harry”, Severus says swiftly. ”You cannot even let go of my hand long enough for the medi-wizard to cast a diagnostics spell, do not even _pretend_ that you would _ever_ be satisfied with _a long-distance relationship!_ ”

 

Harry stares dumbfounded at Severus, his intention to tease the man until he asked him outright about his feelings now completely forgotten. 

 

 _Relationship_ , he thinks dumbly. _Severus — just said — he_ said _it —_

 

The scowl on Severus face deepens, but there is a hint of alarm in his eyes now and Harry can see the wheels turning in his mind, coming to all the wrong conclusions, and before the man has worked himself into a proper state, Harry leans forward and captures his lips in a searing kiss. 

 

He is aware of the older man’s eyes widening in shock, before he lets his own flutter closed. His heart is thumping fast and loudly in his chest… He wasn’t supposed to hurry Severus, he’d promised himself to take things slowly, and now he’d really gone and —

 

Harry’s mind immediately grinds to a halt as he feels the soft lips under his tentatively press back. He lets his own lips fall open and gently sucks Severus’s lower lip in between them, teasing it with the tip of his tongue and relishing the gentle gasp that escapes the other man’s mouth. 

 

With a violent flutter in his belly, Harry smiles against Severus’s lips and pulls back enough to pin the man’s eyes with his own. 

 

”I love you, Severus Snape”, he says. ”I don’t care where we live or what we do, as long as we’re together.”

 

The other man swallows thickly, his eyes searching Harry’s again, but then he gives a tiny nod. Beaming, Harry leans in to kiss him again. They’ll work out the details later. They have the rest of their lives…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE -- I've had such a great time writing and sharing this fic!


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